Life is a Tree
by Cyndi
Summary: Each root and limb connected to the same trunk. .o TFA ProwlxJazz, sequel to Light o.
1. Chapter 1

Warning- CONTAINS SLASH!

Author's note- Well, from here on out my ProwlxJazz fics will be considered AU due to what transpired in _Mission Accomplished._ This story takes place after my other fic, _Light_.

.o

****

Life is a Tree

.o

Humans called it "Braille."

It was very simple to learn. Each character, or cell, was made up of six dot positions arranged in two vertical columns of three. This offered up to sixty-three possible dot combinations per cell. There was grade one Braille, which was individual letters. Grade two was a little more complex, utilizing shorthand contractions for whole words like "the," shortening certain syllables like "ow" or "ch" or rendering one long word into a few abbreviated letters, like "rcv" for "receive" and "brl" for "Braille." These contractions were also versatile--depending on the context in which they were used, some of the same dot patterns could attain entirely different meanings. Blind humans used this tactile system to read.

Prowl found it utterly fascinating.

He downloaded the entire system off the internet and memorized it in less than an hour. There were Braille markings on some of the doors in the warehouse. Prowl waited until everyone else entered recharge mode before he dared explore this new discovery. Though the dots were tinier than Sari's fingertips, Prowl's sensitive fingers were able to detect the patterns. They were room numbers. A few had labels for what was kept behind the doors while others contained directions to different parts of the building.

He could _read_...there were no words for the delight welling in his fuel tanks. Even text on the highest contrast was somewhat difficult for him. It had to be large and bright or the oscillators in his head had trouble detecting the thin lines, resulting in excruciating headaches. Human text was simpler than Cybertronian, which consisted of such complex glyphs that he could only read his Academy data pads on the highest contrast and magnification. It took forever and drew too much attention. Reading via his oscillators was a chore he loathed so much that, if possible, he'd listen in on those who liked to read out loud and commit what he heard to his memory banks. His test scores were always low because he could never finish on time--a trait he used to blame on being a good studier and a bad test taker. He _despised_ anything that involved reading.

Now, he hated it no more.

When morning came, Prowl struck out on his own in vehicle mode and drove to the library for the blind, which was located across town from the warehouse. He took back roads, avoided traffic and prayed that none of the Elite Guard were out sweeping for Decepticons.

__

Wait, what am I doing? Prowl asked himself upon arriving in the alley behind the library. He couldn't very well stick his face in a window and ask for a book. Humans weren't stupid--some were familiar with the human hologram he used in vehicle mode. It would be associated with the "motorcycle Autobot" and word of his dabbling in Braille might get out. It could get back to Optimus...he'd be forced to explain and that risked his life coming to a swift, premature end.

He decided to create another hologram.

Prowl scanned a few of the humans walking past the alleyway and combined their appearances to formulate himself a different human hologram. This one was a tall, thin male with hair the color of fresh carrots. Prowl added a trench coat, sunglasses and one of those white canes the blind humans used. He felt bad that he was about to practically steal books--he swore he'd bring them back when he was done--but he seriously wanted to explore this new freedom and didn't dare risk getting himself a library card. He knew he couldn't visit regularly because someone was bound to notice his vehicle mode frequenting the area. Paranoia made him cautious in everything he did.

Using a hologram rendered his oscillators useless. He tapped to the door and slipped undetected inside. The library smelled like paper with a pinch of dust. He approached the sound of typing and hoped it was the front desk.

"Excuse me, I'm new in town. Where do you keep your books on nature and poetry?"

"Oh! You have quiet feet!" The woman behind the desk jolted out of her chair. She had a young, twittering voice that reminded him of the birds often present in his tree. "Go straight ahead from where you're facing. Poetry is two rows to your left and nature is three to the right."

"Thank you," Prowl's hologram smiled. He counted his steps, using their echo to get a sense of the area. A large, rectangular room full of whispers and breathing and the swish of fingers gliding over paper. It took a minute to find his way around an annoying post that escaped his detection and the shame nearly drove him straight back out the door. He hoped no one with usable vision witnessed his humiliation.

He found the sections he wanted easily enough.. Poetry first, he decided. A swipe of his fingers and he could read the titles. No more straining to make out tiny lines! He could be literate again!

His hunger to read overtook his calmness, and he cursed himself silently for the unseen failure. He snatched a random book and used some slight of hand to shove it under his coat. Thankfully the books were not hardback, so it molded slightly to his torso. Then he calmly padded into the nature aisle where he heard a few people walking around. His throat tightened. A cane bumped his ankle.

"Sorry," said its male owner.

"It's fine."

Prowl slipped another book under his trench coat. His senses remained trained like lasers on the sound shadows cast by the bookshelves, walking bodies and the occasional opening and closing of the door. No one noticed him. He waited until someone distracted the librarian before he bolted without a sound. The alarms were not fast enough to prevent his escape. His hologram slammed the books under the seat of his real body before he took it offline. Everyone was so intent on the library door that nobody paid attention to the motorcycle peeling into the street.

Prowl made it to the warehouse in just over two hours due to his using back roads and alleys. He earned his name that way, by prowling just beyond everyone's sight. He ejected the books from under his seat, transformed and held out his hand to catch them. They were large by human standards--taking up half his palm while closed.

His mind rumbled, hungry for knowledge. He slipped like a shadow into his personal quarters, locked the door and sat down within hearing distance of the wooden wind chimes high up in the treetop.

At first, he found himself dismayed that the pages were so small compared to his giant hands. The Braille cells were close together, maximizing the space on the page. He tried to read the individual lines several times using the edge of his finger, the corner, even his knuckle joint until he realized, much to his delight, that he could feel and process the text by simply sliding his sensitive fingertip left to right across the top and bottom halves of each page.

Reading was no longer a strain ending in terrible headaches. Prowl devoured the nature book--a book about plants--in the span of an hour. He leaned back and beamed ecstatically his newfound freedom. His joy was magnified by the fact that he had someone to share it with.

"Jazz," Prowl opened his com link to a private channel, "Are you busy?"

"Prowl! Hey, sexy!" Jazz answered, his voice a smooth river, "I was just on my way out to see ya."

Prowl's smile parted in a small grin. Why did that prospect send his circuits jolting? "Good. I have something to show you."

.o

Prowl's hands fascinated Jazz. Narrow, slightly tapered tan fingers as nimble as caterpillars sprouted from his black palm. They made him think of a rose--a flower Prowl described as beautiful until the thorns came into play. And right now, those fingers were gliding across the tiny pages of a human book. Each page contained a myriad of raised bumps almost too small for his keen eyesight to detect. He stood back a moment, watching Prowl brush his finger twice over one page, flow across the book to the next one and then turn the page to repeat the process again.

"What'cha got there, Prowl?"

He looked up, "Braille. Tactile reading for blind humans. It is remarkable."

Jazz felt great for Prowl. From what he heard, text did pose problems for him on occasion. "Sweet! So...what'cha reading, then?"

"Poetry by Edgar Allen Poe." Prowl's mouth twitched in a veiled smile of delight Jazz never saw before today. He rubbed his index fingertip across the page, paused and recited, "_It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee_..."

Jazz lent his audios to the rumble of Prowl's soft voice, taking in the ancient prose. He couldn't avoiding smiling at the joy on his companion's face--it was like a whole new world opened under his fingertips. Every word Prowl read made his lips tremble and grin as if he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I...don't understand what that guy is tryin' to say," Jazz chuckled, "but you sure looked happy reading it to me."

Prowl stashed the books behind a large tree root. His hand moved to briefly conceal his face. A shy, unconscious gesture. "This Edgar Allen Poe uses a lot of nature in his descriptions. His words...they are beautiful."

"Can't argue there." Jazz said. He scooted closer to where Prowl was sitting, making noise on purpose before letting their knees bump. He knew Prowl hated being touched without some prior warning. "That Braille stuff looks pretty complex, though. How'd you learn it so fast?"

"I downloaded it."

Jazz slapped himself on the forehead. Way to make a fool of himself in front of the mech he liked! "Ultra Magnus is a little paranoid about divin' into the internet here. Sentinel almost expelled a space barnacle when I told him I downloaded some sweet music."

Prowl's naturally protruding bottom lip seemed to stick out even further than usual. "Bumblebee does that. I wonder how humans can call screaming and percussion 'music' at all."

"It's called 'metal' and some of it is pretty obnoxious." Jazz couldn't resist giving that bottom lip a light thump with his index finger. He watched Prowl's mouth tighten and chuckled, "Did you know this planet has a music style with the same name as me?"

"Jazz?"

"Yeah. Who would've thought, eh?" Jazz laughed. He located one of the files he downloaded, a song titled _The Groove_ by someone named Rodney Franklin. The laid-back piano, drums, bass and trumpets filtered through his speakers. "This's what it sounds like."

The way Prowl started to cringe in anticipation of screaming lyrics made Jazz cover another laugh. There wouldn't be any--this song was an instrumental. Lazy drums thumped gently against the quiet.

Jazz nodded his head to the beat. "Relax. Get into it. I promise it won't scream at ya."

Convincing Prowl took some time. Halfway through the song, he finally seemed to realize his audios weren't about to be blasted off.

"That..." Prowl relaxed his servos with an audible hiss, "...that isn't so bad."

"Cool. Now you just gotta learn how to follow the groove. Here," Jazz held up his hand and began snapping his fingers in time to the drums. "Do this."

Rhythm came naturally for Prowl. He easily matched the beat. "How's this?"

"Great. Now give it some arm action. Like throwin' one of your disks aside--that's it."

Prowl got into it--in a moment he and Jazz were snapping and moving their shoulders along with the music.

"Man, you're a natural!" Jazz grinned and leaned over, bumping shoulders with the attractive mech beside him. He loved how Prowl's hands showed their grace even in an act as simple as finger-snapping.

"Or a fast learner," said Prowl, his clicks never missing a beat. "Interesting tune, by the way. The musical instruments sound as if they're conversing with each other."

The assessment took Jazz by surprise. "Yeah, exactly! Pretty sweet, ain't it?"

"It's..." Prowl's thin lips curved in a half-smile, "all right. Good for a media player on a boring day."

"I should try that too. Much as I like the music here, I can't keep it laying around my hard drives all the time--" Jazz looked over when he felt Prowl's fingertips contact his wrist. They slid effortlessly up his arm to his face, drawing arcane patterns on his cheekbone and making him nearly forget his monologue, "--Ultra Magnus doesn't like that."

"Mm..." Prowl dropped his voice to a register that set Jazz's circuits tingling. He leaned over, smirking, and gently thumbed Jazz's bottom lip. His touch was lightning. "He doesn't, does he?"

Then his smirk dropped and he hesitated, second guessing his own amorous behavior. Having been there, Jazz knew exactly what questions were going through Prowl's head. _Am I too forward? Will he think I'm strange? What if he isn't as interested as I thought? Should I kiss him? How far should we go?_

"Heh, heh! Yeah. I don't mind riling the old bot up once in awhile. Keeps him on his toes."

"Hm," Prowl was still leaning forward.

Awkwardness and Prowl were a strange combination when presented together. Still, Jazz found Prowl's lack of romantic experience adorable. Deciding to make things easier, he pulled him into his lap and brushed a fluttering kiss against his parted lips. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing!" Prowl began. Then, just as quickly, he hung his head with a world-weighted sigh. "Everything."

"Hm?" Jazz prodded only because he wanted Prowl to keep talking. The dark ninja always seemed to have so much bottled up inside. Jazz couldn't imagine living a life without witty conversations or friends that kept loneliness at bay. If allowed, he was sure Prowl could talk for hours and never repeat himself. "It's okay. Whatever it is, tell me. I'm all ears."

Prowl's expression remained guarded. His voice gave away his unease...Jazz noticed the volume of his voice expressed his level of comfort in a situation. The softer he spoke, the less comfortable he was. Right then, his words were barely above a flat whisper, "My--teammates...and their reaction to our relationship."

"Why worry?"

A shrug. "I don't know..."

"Then don't worry. We aren't breakin' any rules. If somebody sees us together, who cares?"

"It will blow my reputation as the grumpy ninja," Prowl grumbled. He couldn't hold his face deadpan and burst into soft snickers.

Jazz chuckled and switched songs. Something slower, smoother. His sensors almost melted when he felt Prowl swish his hips to the smooth guitar and drums.

"I _really_ like this one," Prowl spoke in a low tone while leaning so close their lips grazed, "What is it called?"

"_Rain_, by a guy named Norman Brown," Jazz replied. Prowl's mouth hovered before him, tempting like forbidden fruit that he couldn't resist. He leaned forward one last inch and tasted the soft, metallic warmth of those lips.

"Then I wonder," Prowl said between lip-locks, "If sunlight is as loud as you say, does that mean moonlight sounds more like this? Quiet and smooth?"

Jazz pondered for a few beats. He loved the challenge of explaining the visual world in terms Prowl could better understand. Moonlight was adularescent and silent like photonic ice...same as the music.

"Yeah...I'd say so. And that part where the piano sounds like chimes is..." He nuzzled the fingertips gliding across his cheekbone, "...twinkling stars."

.o

Prowl listened to Jazz's creamy voice telling him what the moon and stars sounded like. He marveled at the other ninja's ability to take the visual and represent it with an audio or tactile equivalent. But it was so typical of Jazz that such a detail shouldn't have been surprising.

"I think I found ya a new addiction," Jazz whispered in his ear. He had Prowl hooked on his touch, his lips and his voice. Another reason to like him wouldn't cause any harm.

Smirking, Prowl fingered the satiny dip between Jazz's nose and his upper lip. That precious space changed shape when Jazz smiled or frowned. He never would've known that wonderful hollow existed if he kept his exploration limited to his visor.

"Maybe," said Prowl. He relaxed into Jazz and took in the sense of _him_...the rhythmic intakes, his Spark-pulse and the warmth of his internals. Touch was not his enemy. Touch healed him inside. Touch let him see.

He couldn't bring himself to tell Jazz there was perhaps one person out there he could ever truly love...but that someone--a someone he never mentioned to anyone and whose name he didn't even know--was a mech he only met once and would likely never meet again. The line of thought made him realize how unrealistic this old dream was in the grand scheme of things. He had genuine feelings for Jazz. Accepting them was difficult when this ideal person still floated in his memory. What if he committed himself fully to Jazz and then ran into this mystery mech?

His rational side rose up to smash his inner quarrel. This mech from ages past probably wouldn't remember him if they sat face to face in the same room. With that in mind, he asked the one nagging question that wouldn't be silent.

"Jazz?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Suppose you discovered my blindness before you felt your attraction--"

"Prowl, I wouldn't have turned ya in. I've--seen how it's done, how they're euthanized. I...I think it's murder of innocents. They ain't criminals. They just have something wrong with 'em." There was a tremble in his words, a subtle, cautious note that left snags in its silk, and his body temperature dropped nearly five degrees. He practically flinched on the subject. "If every flawed mech deserves to die, it should include personality flaws too. Like Sentinel--the bot whose chin is only preceded by his ego. He should be on the list. Ultra Magnus should go on it because he's old and set in his ways. Nobody's without _flaw_, Prowl. _Nobody_. Even me...I guess I need to be killed because sometimes I like to show off when I'm good at something. You ever show off, Prowl?"

The odd quiver in Jazz's voice bothered Prowl. It was like the train horns with a harmonic note missing. Off, somehow.

"Yes, once, and it ended badly. I was stupid enough to accept mods." The weight of extra armor and the smell of freshly broken eggs haunted his memory. That helmet he wore--heavy and annoying as it was--enhanced his audios to twice their normal range. He swore he could use his sense of hearing better than his oscillators. He'd been arrogant, foolish and even turned his visor off at one point. If he'd kept it online, he never would've damaged the environment while fighting a Starscream clone or given himself away in the warehouse! "I...I harmed the very organic creatures I love to study. I learned my lesson. The only mod I'll ever use is my visor."

"Ohh...so you were the one runnin' around with Lockdown? Wow." Jazz rocked back a little, "Mods...yeah, my visor's a mod, too, for looks. But that's it. I don't use enhancers. You shouldn't either--you're gorgeous just the way you are."

"Flattering," Prowl curled his lip in dark amusement. Then, serious, he continued, "Now, about the--"

"No." Jazz shook his head. "Prowl, can we change the subject for awhile? This...isn't something I'm ready to discuss yet. Bad memories."

Prowl tightened his mouth in a frown. His innards ran cold--what if Jazz was sent to turn him in all along? No, no, no...Jazz swore he'd never do that, and Prowl trusted him enough to keep his word on that. He sighed, letting his shoulders sag. "Only if you promise you'll tell me in the future."

The lips under Prowl's fingertips pursed and slowly relaxed. "I swear I will." Jazz paused, made a coughing noise and his shoulders shifted. He was looking around, trying to find a distraction. "Y'know, Magnus wants me to investigate an energy source in the woods. Could be a piece of the AllSpark. Come with me tomorrow. Let's take a...what's that thing humans do with tents?"

Jazz was dodging the subject, trying to sound happier than he obviously felt. Something about the question Prowl asked earlier spooked him to the core. His body temperature still hadn't quite come up from its sudden drop--a common indicator of fear or stress.

He decided to, as humans called it, throw Jazz a bone. "Camping trip?"

"Camping trip...yeah. You and I. I betcha Optimus would let you if you convince him Sentinel won't be sticking his nose up our afts."

"He probably does so because he can't reach his own," Prowl muttered. He realized too late that he'd said it out loud. What was it about Jazz and that made it impossible for him to avoid speaking his mind?

Jazz exploded in laughter so suddenly that he tipped over backwards. With his support gone, Prowl toppled right along with him. Jazz's body shook like an earthquake against his chest and the pleasant sound of his amusement became a melody sliding around the room. Jazz had such a peculiar laugh--soaring high as a whine and then exploding into loud guffaws that cycled the entire musical scale of his voice. His whole face and body went into it. Prowl's fingertips detected creases at the corners of Jazz's eyes. Laugh lines so long they extended from under the visor.

"Oh man," his bad mood was salt dissolving in water. The energy his laughing released was almost equal to an overload. He calmed down slowly, gasping to cool his internals. "You're probably right, too."

"I usually am." Prowl pushed himself up a bit. He caught himself smiling, his mind still on the wonderful sound Jazz made a moment ago. Prowl never was one to laugh so openly--usually he kept his amusement to a quiet chuckle or a smile. Keeping his emotions in check was a way of staying in the shadows--nobody paid much attention to boring people. Except Jazz, of course, and Prowl STILL scratched his head over that. "Which is why I suspect your motives to venture out alone are also a means of sharing time alone with _me_."

"Ah...busted." Jazz sat up. "I wanna get you alone. Figured maybe you'd--I dunno--want to open up more if you thought nobody was around to see stuff you don't want 'em to see."

A thoughtful gesture that smelled like intentions beyond simply _talking_. Prowl smirked to himself. He found the prospect of being completely alone with Jazz as frightening as it was wonderful. While he did respect his teammates, he wouldn't mind being able to work on his own without needing to answer to anybody. Being able to survive alone was always the one way he knew he wasn't dependent. He struggled with this when he thought of Jazz. It was difficult to get past his own ideas of independence.

Besides, in his earliest years when he needed the most help, it wasn't there. So he stopped looking for it.

"I should inform Optimus of our plans."

"Sure. Want me to back you up?"

"Thank you, but I can handle this. He's pretty good about letting me work alone."

"Alone?"

Prowl gazed down at Jazz, "You could always give me coordinates and let me meet you wherever you choose. I seem to recall it being done in the one romance novel I suffered through at the Academy--"

"Oh, Primus..." groaned Jazz, "you had to read _Tales From the Lover's Spark_, too?"

"Mmhmm. Where the lovers left poetry hanging in trees and met in secret. Those were the only parts I liked." Prowl didn't dare admit that novel was his one and only exposure to romance before Jazz. He used to believe _everyone_ in love acted that way and the young, wild part of him yearned to experience it first-hand. "I suppose my idea of 'romantic' would involve a similar situation."

"You're cheeky, you know that?"

"I do now." Prowl pushed himself up off Jazz's chest. "I'll be back."

Finding Optimus wasn't all that difficult--he tended to stand alone by the computer console, monitoring the area for potential Autobot or Decepticon activity. Prowl fought the rush of nervousness percolating in his processors when it came to regarding his superior officer. Optimus proved himself rather perceptive regarding people. He was a good judge of character and Prowl feared one day he'd guess the truth.

__

I suppose there's no sense in stalling. Prowl softly cleared his throat and willed himself to speak, "Sir."

"Prowl," Optimus faced him. His voice always had a sad heaviness mixed into its tenor rumble. He carried heaps of regret that never seemed to lift. "What can I do for you?"

"Not much," Prowl kept his tone casual, "Jazz recently informed me there may be a shard of the AllSpark located in the forest where Sumdac discovered Megatron's head."

"Oh?" The console creaked when Optimus leaned his hip against it. He didn't sound entirely convinced. "And you want to go alone?"

"Yes," Prowl nodded. "I don't see a reason to send the entire team out when one set of hands will do."

To his surprise, Optimus chuckled. His voice lowered to a whisper, "Prowl, if you want to spend time alone with Jazz, there's nothing wrong with simply asking."

"Wh-what?" Flustered, Prowl struggled and failed to keep his mind on-topic, "I don't--"

"Prowl. I saw you two."

"Sir?"

"Oh, frag." Optimus smacked his forehead with his palm. He seemed to realize what he just said and shrank back an inch, "I...um--the other night, I walked out onto the roof to ask you something. I turned right around and left when I saw what was going on..."

Whatever else he said after that went right over Prowl's head. Mortified didn't _begin_ to describe the sinking feeling in his fuel pumps. His commanding officer saw him up-linking. He wanted nothing more than to seek the nearest shadow and vanish forever. The only good thing was Optimus didn't gossip about such matters...but it did little to soften the blow.

__

Primus, please end me now...

"Prowl, you aren't in any trouble." Optimus sounded increasingly less like a leader and more like a young mech caught in the act of something against regulations. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

Prowl threw his hands up in an almost defensive gesture. He wanted to deflect this snowballing embarrassment before it ran him over. "Jazz suggested working together so we can keep our respective teams informed of whatever we find. That way neither can be accused of withholding information from the other."

But Optimus wasn't so easily deterred, "A little time alone with Jazz would be good for you."

"Sir..." He gave up and let the proverbial snowball flatten him inside. "I--"

Suddenly, Optimus slapped his hand flat on the console and his voice took on a harsher tone. "Are you _blind_, Prowl?"

Ice pulsed down Prowl's back. "I--"

Prime cut him off, his words flaming in their softness, "Jazz is crazy about you! Why do you keep denying yourself? You have a chance to be happy. And you're--you're trying to deny it." There was pain in his voice. The pain of experience. "Why, Prowl?"

Prowl startled when Optimus settled a large, gentle hand on his shoulder and bent down so their gazes were level. It was probably the most detailed view of him Prowl ever got through his oscillators--a square, serious blue visage with attractive come-hither lips and sad, regretful optics. This close proximity made Prowl uncomfortable--though the visor was opaque he still had an irrational fear that anyone who came close would see the truth underneath.

"You always struck me as lonely. I don't know what horrible secret you're hiding from me, but it's clear you've told Jazz and he doesn't care. Whatever it is, he accepts you as you are."

Prowl nervously licked his lips. "...sir, I..."

"Prowl--hey, Prowl, _relax_. You're wound tighter than a locking coil." Optimus smiled and the sorrow he carried melted just a little. "Take the time off. You and Jazz seem right for each other. So go get him--don't muck around. I fell in love, once..." He sighed, "I didn't speak up when I should have. Now...well, that's the past. Let's just say the price is too high."

So _that_ was the thrum of pain in Prime's voice.

"I'm sorry..."

"Bah. It's the past." Optimus waved it off. "Take forty-eight hours."

"What?" Prowl didn't know what to say. Optimus just flabbergasted the words right out of his mind. "Are you--sure?"

"Yeah. Barring a life or death crisis, we'll leave you alone if there's trouble. Take the break. You need it." Optimus finally moved his hand away and straightened to his full height.

Two full days. Forty-eight hours. A generous proposition considering their line of work. Prowl didn't dare protest it and risk having time shaved off. He'd need it to sort himself out and decide which future he wanted to pursue. As much as he liked Jazz, he was still terrified that his secret could send them both to their deaths--him for being flawed and Jazz for knowingly harboring him.

"Th-thank you," Prowl said, his voice twisted small. "I'll depart before sunrise tomorrow."

"Good." Optimus returned his attention to the console, smiling. "I hope you work this out. You deserve to be happy, Prowl."

Prowl walked off in a daze. His limbs ached with tension.

It _would_ be good to get away for a few days.


	2. Chapter 2

Firelight and early morning sun bathed the tree in which Jazz sat, his mouth drawn in a smile at his own handiwork. Two by four boards were dangling from the boughs of three trees at his right. He'd downloaded this Braille stuff--though he used his vision to read it--and decided to attempt it by using nails to form the dots. Was it a cheesy move? Yes. But Jazz always wanted to try this and no one else he knew would get it. Knowing Prowl yearned to experience it just like in the novel, and knowing he'd understand and appreciate the art behind hanging messages made the sentimentality worth it. One had to say a lot in a limited space. Humans had a similar way of writing poetry, something called _haiku_.

Jazz's poem was simple and straight from his Spark.

__

We are a rainbow.

You make the storm clouds and rain.

And I'm the sunshine.

Jazz made sure he didn't push the nails all the way into the wood. It wouldn't be the smoothest reading, but he was able to feel the nail heads when he brushed his digits over the board. He just hoped Prowl, who lacked the sight to check, would find it legible.

An engine broke the quiet. Jazz's senses returned to full alert and excitement prickled into his circuitry. He watched Prowl transform out of vehicle mode inches from the first wooden slab. There was no way he'd miss it.

Prowl reached up to move the board...but paused when his knuckles encountered the nails. He turned the two by four around and rubbed his index, middle and ring fingers down its length. Wind sent the board rocking, forcing him to recapture and feel it a second time. Not confused--confirming--his fingertips graceful as they lingered on every carefully chosen syllable.

Jazz envied those nails.

Moving on, Prowl caught the second board. His thin lips twitched in a smile and he touched the side of his face. At the last one, he looked up and the sun shimmered across his visor.

"Impressive. You're quite the poet," said Prowl. He kept his tone neutral in an obvious attempt to cover his giddiness.

Jazz chuckled, pretending not to notice as he hopped down. He grinned--seeing Prowl happy sent joyful ripples through his body. "I've got good inspiration."

"Hmph. Flatterer."

There was a silent nervousness surrounding Prowl--subtle, yet Jazz sensed it anyway.

"Feels kinda forbidden, doesn't it?"

Prowl nodded. "Isn't that supposed to make it more exciting?"

"Yup." Jazz's gaze wandered to Prowl's long, delicate neck. He leaned over and lightly brushed his lips against it. "C'mon, lemme show you where I set up camp," and he lowered his voice to a whisper, "I nicked some flux we can heat up like those um...mellow marshes."

"Marsh...mellows," Prowl said slowly, smiling. "Sounds delicious. I've been living off rations and oil shakes for so long--I hardly remember how it feels to indulge in _real_ junk food."

"You have a junk tooth, too?" Jazz stepped to the left where he'd set up some portable berths amidst the trees with foliage pulled around for minimal shelter.

"You should see what I can do with rust sticks."

Jazz knew Prowl didn't mean it to sound dirty, but the slick way he said it heated his innards. "Maybe I will. I brought some of those, too."

He didn't miss the subdued excitement flitting over his companion's schooled expression.

Prowl slipped past him to confirm their campsite. The trees were thick enough to block the sun, so for a moment Prowl was a gold beacon next to the firelight. Jazz stood back, watching him glisten. He couldn't believe it--they were _alone_ together. This area was so remote that it felt like no one else existed in the world.

The container of rust sticks clicked. Prowl held it up. "May I?"

"Go for it, Prowl. I got a ton of 'em."

Prowl popped the top off the container and took a rust stick. He seemed more relaxed than Jazz had ever seen him. Nervousness still surrounded him, but he wasn't ruled by it. He laid back on one of the portable berths, folded his hand behind his head and casually passed the entire rust stick over his small, black glossa.

"Wow..." Jazz sat on the other berth. First he was jealous of the Braille on the boards. Now he longed to be the flavored rust stick. "I thought I was the only one who liked to lick 'em first."

"Eating them outright wastes the flavor." Prowl licked the tip, "Rust sticks should be savored, not devoured."

"Heh, heh," Jazz scooted over so he and Prowl were spooning on the same berth. He whispered in his audio, "I know something else that's real sweet when you do it slow."

"Mm..." Warmth rippled over Prowl's frame. He chewed the tip of the rust stick. His hand reached back and cupped Jazz's cheek. "What does fire look like, Jazz?" He asked it so coyly, as if the question itself became an invitation.

Jazz took it. He rose up on his elbow, "Like--" and slowly covered Prowl's lips with his own, their tongues dancing hotly like the flames less than ten feet away. "--this."

"Oh..." Prowl flashed a brief grin and turned over so they were face to face. To Jazz's surprise, he took off his visor and set it on top of the rust stick container. "No wonder it generates so much heat."

Seeing Prowl's eyeless face didn't affect Jazz's growing excitement. Removing the visor was exposing his vulnerability, revealing his trust. Jazz retracted his own and leaned up, gently kissing the spaces where Prowl's optics should have been.

"Let me show you beautiful," Jazz whispered. He guided Prowl's hand to his own cheek.

"Jazz," Prowl's bottom lip trembled. "You--"

"Shh," Jazz kissed him again and felt wiry arms wrap around his neck.

Prowl paused to bite the tip off the rust stick. Then their mouths met once again and they tasted the gritty sweetness together. Jazz's innards boiled--Prowl was becoming a fantastic kisser. The piece of rust grew hot as their internal heat and the friction of their kiss increased its temperature.

Then Jazz accidentally swallowed it.

"Heh, woops..."

"It's fine." Prowl smiled and nibbled his throat. He was getting bolder. "Jazz..."

It felt wonderful to hold him. Jazz wished time would stand still. "Yeah?"

"I'd like to taste you...like you tasted me after our first uplink. You were amazing when you did that. But," he half-hid his face, "I'm concerned I won't be any good. I don't know the first thing about--"

"Aw, Prowl," Jazz thought the proposition was sweet in its innocence. "You're new at this is all."

"You always seem to know exactly what to do when it comes to causing me pleasure." Prowl half-smiled, "And that isn't a complaint."

"Heh, heh! Experience. I wasn't assembled knowing all the tricks." Jazz tried to keep his voice steady, but even the idea of Prowl putting his mouth on his jack made him tremble inside. Not many mechs liked to give it. "Would you...like to try?"

"Right now?"

"If you want." He leaned forward, whispering against Prowl's parted lips. "That's kinda what we're here for, isn't it? To learn about each other?"

"Indeed." Prowl's voice lowered to a steamy register, "Let's do it now. Teach me how to please you, Jazz."

.o

Prowl couldn't believe he just _said_ that! Sex had always been something forbidden, secret and out of his reach--something no one wanted to have with a flaw like himself. Now he had access to it almost whenever he asked, and the prospect both frightened and excited him. He knew so little about his own body...to touch someone else's, someone with knowledge in this area...he almost shied away.

Almost.

"Prowl," Jazz's creamy voice oozed sensuality. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the berth and scooted over to sit on the very edge. "Sit on the ground and give me your hand."

Prowl did so, lowering to sit on his knees between the sound shadows of Jazz's legs. He felt Jazz grasp his wrist and guide it to the jack plug located in the apex of his thighs. Other than being shockingly warm, it didn't feel much different from the everyday jacks he plugged into computer consoles and Bumblebee's media player.

"For starters," Jazz was smiling, "Build up the anticipation a bit. Fool around. It feels better when I'm already buzzin'. I really like it when people kiss and lick my thighs before they go for the gold."

"A-Alright," Prowl felt his courage wavering. He couldn't very well back out now! Leaning forward, he let his lips contact Jazz's left inner thigh. Smoothness greeted him, a smoothness not unlike Jazz's wonderful voice. Turning his head to the right, he repeated himself on the other leg. Each pass of his glossa made the servos in Jazz's thighs tense and relax. Most of his body seemed to be covered in cyber-mesh, a very flexible and expensive form of armor that, under high magnification, closely resembled the chain mail of ancient human history. It was almost as strong as plating while allowing complete freedom of motion.

Prowl's probing fingertips encountered seams halfway down Jazz's thigh. Briefly tracing their shape told him they were the areas where black and white met on his legs and torso. He knew enough about body modifications to realize Jazz wasn't assembled this way. Plating had been removed from his thighs and waist and probably his upper arms, too. Bulky mechs who entered the ninja lifestyle often streamlined themselves to the bare essentials, so Prowl wasn't surprised by this discovery.

"Just like that." Jazz quivered and wiggled his feet, "Man, you are turnin' me _on_, Prowl."

"Glad you're enjoying it," Prowl smiled, letting his fingertips follow the invisible path his tongue just drew, "I like your cyber-mesh. It's so smooth."

"Heh, thanks. I got it done in a funky pattern since I figured going all black or all white wouldn't be very stylish."

"It certainly suits you."

Prowl resumed his explorations. Jazz had a flavor--a tangy, electrical taste that prickled excitement down Prowl's metallic spine. Deciding he wanted more, he worked his way to the curve where Jazz's leg and body joined.

"Ooh," Jazz cooed, "Ya found some sensors."

"Here?" Prowl jabbed it with his tongue. The sensors in question were tiny bumps barely detectable by feel.

"Mmhmm...Primus, Prowl...pointy tongues like yours are _hot_."

"I'll give you hot," Prowl whispered. He dragged his glossa slowly--millimeters at a time--over the row of sensory nubs and Jazz's intakes upped their cycle ratio. He drifted inwards towards Jazz's abdomen, kissed the tip of his jack plug and continued to give his other leg an encore.

Jazz arched his back a few times, groaning and clicking his teeth. His movements only encouraged Prowl to face the plug itself.

__

Here goes...

Prowl scrunched his lips in a frown and put the whole thing in his mouth, sucking on it as hard as he could, and Jazz gave a little jolt.

"Ow! Whoa...Prowl, ease up."

Embarrassed, Prowl sat back. He was so used to being perfect at everything he did that mistakes made his face burn. "I'm...I'm sorry. Did I injure you?"

"Naw." There was a reassuring smile in Jazz's voice. "I'm fine. You just pulled a little too hard--aw, it's okay. You're learning. Try it again--pretend it's a rust stick with a loose coating that spills everywhere. How do you make sure you won't trail powder everywhere? Ya lick it. Yum."

__

A rust stick, Prowl mused. He bent closer to the warmth of Jazz's jack plug and trailed his glossa along its length. First slow--then fast--it tasted like heat, electricity and aluminum and glided smoothly against his tongue. Was it his imagination, or did the plug become suddenly warmer under his ministrations?

"Yes..._yes_!" Jazz stiffened, "_Oh_...that's--that's nice...try sucking on the tip. Gentle...real gentle."

Prowl closed his lips around the very tip. With his left hand, he pinched the base so he wouldn't slide down and make the same mistake he made the first time. He felt Jazz cup the back of his head in a trembling hand.

"Unh...oh--Primus, Prowl...your mouth feels so slagging _good_--mmh!"

He could feel Jazz getting hotter against his glossa. Moving his fingers away, he slowly took more into his mouth and extended his tongue to taste the base. There was a tiny circuit bundle located where Jazz's plug and body met. He let the tip of his glossa brush it.

Jazz arched his back with a hoarse cry. "Sweet spot," he gasped, "Unnnh--right there..."

The sounds Jazz made sent heat prickling down Prowl's neural pathways. He let his hands wander over Jazz's narrow hips and smooth sides. His body was a thing of beauty, of perfection. Sometime in the near future, he hoped to explore it all with his lips. He wanted to learn all the intricacies and details that made up the mech called Jazz.

Prowl slowed his movements and kissed the jack as if it were Jazz's tongue. This was a moment to savor, not rush through. He let himself taste the electric buzz working its way through Jazz's chassis.

"Mmh, ahhh--Prowl...what you're doin' to me right now--this's what a thunderstorm looks like. Mm..."

Prowl believed him. The energy, the movement and the growing anticipation of something just over the horizon enhanced his excitement.

Jazz's other hand joined its brother. Prowl let them guide his lips and tongue. His olfactory sensors detected burning oil. Jazz was trembling exactly the way he did when he neared overload. Prowl heard his intakes straining to keep up with his rapidly heating internals. Static began to crackle against his teeth and tongue.

"D-don't stop," Jazz gasped and Prowl could hear the tension in his face by the strain in his voice. He began to coo softly, his voice light and insubstantial like the mourning doves in the park. In any other context it'd be a ridiculous sound, but here, it indicated extreme pleasure. "Ooh...P-Prowl...almost there...ooh! Ooh, you're so good at this...ooh..."

Prowl wanted his lover to keep making those beautiful noises. Jazz was extremely vocal during sexual activity, and Prowl_ loved_ hearing how good he made him feel. He tipped his head on its side, taking the whole jack into his mouth and rolling it around on his tongue. Jazz mewled and doubled over. His legs stiffened under Prowl's palms and his heels slid backwards to clank against the berth.

"Unh!" Jazz sucked air in like a drug. His voice was pinched, "I'm--on the edge...ooh...r-right on the edge..._oh_...Prowl...faster--_faster!_"

Prowl became aware of hotter sparks crackling in his mouth. He sped up his motions until the discharges exploded into the continuous electrical bombardment of sensory overload.

"Oh! I'm g-going...Prowl, I'm--I-I--ahhh, Pr--_OH!_" Jazz's entire body tightened and Prowl shivered as quivering lips kissed their way across his sensitive engine nozzles. Excitement blasted his sensors. Knowing he caused Jazz to climax made him feel powerful. His mouth worked faster, deepening the sensation, and Jazz emitted that stunning moan-sob he loved to hear.

It seemed like an eternity of trembling and breathy moans before Prowl felt Jazz relax. Shuddering hands raised his head and soft lips replaced the hard jack plug.

"That was the best oral I ever got." Jazz panted.

"Really?"

"You bet." Those glorious lips smiled, "I'll be tinglin' and shakin' for hours."

Prowl grinned back, elated. "I'm glad that I pleased you."

"Heh, heh! Now..." Jazz eased Prowl to lie on his back and settled down beside him, "There's one really important thing you gotta learn about when it comes to this stuff." He took Prowl's hand and slid it down, down, down...and Prowl shivered when he felt his own port plug slide under his fingertips. "Your own body. Touch yourself. Get to know yourself. Learn what feels good to you. Contrary to what they say at the academy, self-serving ain't shameful. Now...look at yourself. Explore."

How was it that Jazz made the dirty things Prowl heard whispered about in the Academy halls seem so enticing? The views of sex on Cybertron were extreme--some were all for it and others treated it like something filthy. It was often believed the Decepticons were depraved barbarians who practically raped each other.

Prowl explored his own port, something he honestly never did before in his life. It extended from his body as much as Jazz's jack plug. The tip was hollow with an opening exactly the diameter of Jazz's jack. Was this where the sentiment "we were made for each other" came from? He discovered the opening was sensitive, and shuddered under his own touch. Sparks snapped against his fingertips. His thumb traced the smooth fold from which his port emerged. Something there...right at the base...sent jolts of electricity shooting straight into his Spark chamber.

"Unh!" he writhed, instinctively spreading his legs slightly wider. A few weeks ago, when Jazz performed oral on him, his tongue spent several moments on that little bump. "What in the world _is_ that?"

"It's your sweet spot--the sensor that tells your body whether the port is in or out. The sensory wiring goes from there to your Spark chamber. Every mech has one, but not all are sensitive. Guess you and I are lucky." Jazz whispered smoothly in his ear. "Play with it a bit. See what feels best...you'll be teachin' me what you like too."

Prowl nodded and tested different strokes and pressures. Knowing Jazz was watching added to the thrill and forbidden nature of this act. He quickly discovered how rubbing that little bump like a Braille dot made his whole body clench. Then he realized stroking it while pressing his thumb into the tip of his port felt even _better_, like a river of magma flowing straight across his Spark.

"When I do this...it--it tingles," Prowl grunted and licked his lips, "My engines...they're prickling..."

"Are they? Ooh," Jazz shifted and Prowl felt a warm glossa outline each nozzle. Oh, Primus and all that was holy, it felt _amazing_, and he couldn't bite back the moans flooding from his throat.

"Oh, Jazz...mmh!"

"What else is tingling?"

"My chest...my throat..."

He felt Jazz's hands caress his chest. Soft lips teased his throat. "Like this, Prowl?" More kisses, "Or this?" The lips gave way to teeth gently nipping his outer armor--ooh--he _loved_ that.

"The biting," Prowl gasped, pinching the tip of his port and making himself shiver and moan.

"Hm-hm-hm," Jazz chuckled in his ear and those glorious teeth grazed his jaw, trailing conflagration in their wake, "You like love bites, do ya?"

"Mm..."

"When you're doing this," Jazz trailed a fingertip over Prowl's cheekbone and nipped the base of his throat, "sometimes it helps to fantasize about what excites you."

__

Not really necessary when my fantasy is right beside me, but... Prowl decided to humor himself. He recalled the sounds Jazz made during overload and gasped when a new layer of arousal slammed through his body. His sweet spot became a boiling button that set off tiny explosions each time he stroked it. He tensed, baring his teeth in a pleasured snarl.

"You're sexy when you touch yourself," Jazz whispered in his audio, "I wanna see you overload."

That wouldn't take much longer, if Prowl went by the memory of his first orgasm from their encounter at the warehouse. He grew acutely aware of the tingling concentrating around the opening to his port. Like a tiny ember, the sensation built bigger and bigger, an electric rose unfurling its petals. Hot static snapped against his fingertips.

"Awesome," Jazz purred, and Prowl found himself encircled in warm arms. "You're close. I can see it--what's it feel like?"

"It's--" Prowl gritted his teeth. The tingling in his port backwashed into his abdomen and his body went rigid. "It's--hot. Aches...t-t-tension--unh!"

"Good. _Enjoy_ this moment, Prowl." Jazz stroked the engines on his shoulders.

Prowl came to the edge of eternity. The tingling filled his body to capacity. Then Jazz nipped his neck, and the prickly sensation became a tickling ache that nearly doubled him over with a sharp cry. He plunged into a chasm of lightning, flames and bliss driven by his own hand. At the bottom he felt another part of himself jolt to awareness--a self who craved touch, closeness and the simple satisfaction of the servo-jarring rapture he was currently experiencing.

"Ah! Primus! Jazz...unh! _Jazz_..." Prowl jerked his head back and cried out to the treetops. It was loud and he didn't care. His body clenched in exquisite agony. He turned his head and Jazz kissed him deeply, the sweep of his tongue heightening his ecstasy. The overload went on and on until Prowl thought he'd implode. He didn't care how he looked or sounded--right then all that mattered was this transcendental moment of self-discovery.

"I _love_ how you say my name when you go off." Jazz whispered.

Prowl felt a rust-coated fingertip caress his bottom lip. He took it into his mouth and suckled--the overload left _all_ of his senses heightened--and the gritty sweetness flooded his burning tongue. His lips didn't let go until he'd cleaned the rust off Jazz's fingertip. Then he kissed it and turned his head to kiss the lips hovering near his cheek.

"It seems like the perfect thing to say," he breathed. "That...that felt _amazing_. I had no idea one could cause themselves so much pleasure."

"Ya see? Self-serving ain't wrong."

"Whoever said it was is a fool."

"Heh! And, just a heads up--that won't be the last overload you have during this trip," Jazz told him, brushing his lips over the spaces where his eyes should have been. "That's a promise."

"Mm...I like that idea." Prowl responded drowsily.

They rested together in silence, Prowl drifting in and out of light recharge while his systems cycled down to normal power. He felt Jazz's gentle gaze on him. When people stared, he usually hated it, but he didn't mind being _admired_. It felt nice to be seen as something more than a silent, unassuming maintenance bot.

Prowl reached up and traced Jazz's face. His visor was off. He explored the outlines of his lover's optics. They were such a beautiful shape--like spindles that turned up in the outer corners.

"Would I be beautiful with eyes?"

"Yeah...but you're still gorgeous to me without 'em." Jazz nuzzled him. He was chewing on a rust stick, trying and failing to be quiet about it, "The world is kinda bent on appearances. Sometimes I think you're lucky--you don't get hung up on how somebody looks. You can see what's the most important--the insides of people. Guess bein' blind is more like X-ray vision, eh?"

Prowl laughed. He never thought of it that way before. Even though Jazz put it in a humorous light, he sensed the seriousness curling underneath. It was the truth. His attraction to Jazz wasn't based on his looks. He really couldn't name _what_ drew him to this loud, larger-than-life spirit of a mech who gazed at him in complete adoration. Was it his voice? How he was treated? Knowing his secret was safe? They seemed to just...fit together like the teeth in a zipper.

"I suppose that's true." Prowl said. "Sari once watched a very old movie about a human with a terrible facial deformity--his name was Rocky Dennis, I believe. Sari said he looked horrible, but when I listened to the movie from my room, I learned he had a wonderful voice and an entertaining personality. And...he found love in a blind woman who didn't care about his appearance. Beautiful movie."

"Sooo..." Jazz murmured in his audio, "You'd still be attracted to me even if I was a rusty old thing?"

"How do I know you aren't a rusty old thing now?" Prowl grinned.

Jazz laughed, gently slapping his side. "Good point."

Again, silence settled between them. It bore no awkwardness.

Then Prowl spoke up.

"Jazz, I have a question. It might be a little odd."

"Shoot."

"You're supposed look people in the eye when you talk to them, but I lack optics. Where do you look when you talk to me?"

Jazz chuckled, "Sans visor? I look at your mouth, 'cause it's what expresses your emotions. But when you're visor's on, I look at that. Eyes...they tend to express what people feel whether they want them to or not. It's really subtle, something you have to see to understand. It's pretty funny--people have no problem reading me even though I wear my visor. Guess the rest of my face tattles. Anyway..." Jazz moved his face closer, "I like your smile."

Prowl chuckled, but couldn't avoid a self conscious shiver. Body language and gestures he could understand, but facial expressions were lost on him except at extremely close range. He never learned to fully mimic them, which was why he often came across as stoic. When he smiled, it was never forced. He could remember the first time he was close enough to see another mech smile through his oscillators--and it scared him. It took him years to realize the expression was supposed to be pleasant.

Now he had a sighted person who could explain all these little things to him. Someone who did not care that he was basically oblivious to the subtleties of social interaction. This someone could teach him those things.

"So..." Prowl smiled, "You...like my smile?"

Fingertips grasped his chin. Jazz pecked his lips, "Yeah. It's gorgeous 'cause it's so real. Guess that means I'll look for every excuse to make ya do it."

"You're terrible!"

Jazz chuckled, a smile obvious by the sweetness in his voice. "I know."

Prowl let his fingertips slide down to Jazz's mouth. A grin greeted him and his own smile grew in response. For the first time in his life, he realized he was genuinely happy.

"In your case, it won't take that much effort."

Jazz crunched a rust stick and the smell of it wafted off his breath when he replied, "Sweet."

Chuckling, Prowl turned over onto his side, inviting Jazz to spoon again. He liked that feeling of closeness and safety. When Jazz took the invitation, Prowl snuggled his chest and relished the plump lips that nuzzled his throat. Their fingers interlocked like intertwining vines. Prowl began to realize that closeness wasn't his enemy. All he had to do was say a word and he could have as much space as he needed. He had control--even in the moments where he felt he gave it up, he still had it, and that made him relax.

"I feel like meditating."

"Mm?"

Prowl sat up abruptly. He still hadn't grown accustomed to long periods of physical contact--he liked it, but he needed to build up his tolerance. Being in constant conflict within himself left him a little irritable. Meditation always cleared his head.

"It...helps me maintain my inner balance."

"Ah, the ancient arts."

"Which requires utter stillness."

"Which I can do," said Jazz. "What's our focus sound?"

It felt _incredible_ to have someone who did not mock him. While Bumblebee proved entertaining, he was irritating when he came up with one-liners like "that stillness garbage? Puh-leeze!" right before turning on obnoxiously loud music, which made meditation impossible.

Jazz wasn't that way at all. Jazz _understood_ because he _lived_ this life.

Without a word, Prowl slid off the berth to sit cross-legged with his hands folded in his lap. The campfire crackled a mere foot from his knees. Its warmth seeped into his servos and calmness descended through his neural relays. He heard Jazz settle down across from him and then...nothing. Perfect stillness and silence, and nobody in shouting distance to spoil it.

__

Paradise...I'm in paradise!

Prowl felt himself smiling. His internals slowed to the bare minimum--controlled to behave as if recharging while his mind remained alert. He imagined his worries as smoke rising off the fire while each crackle let him contemplate the future. One he hoped included him and Jazz together.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ahhh," Jazz barely avoided shivering in relief as he emptied his waste tank on a rock. He turned his head and grinned raucously at Prowl, who lightly held onto his elbow. "Hey, Prowl, how far can you gush it?"

"Is this really--"

"Aw, c'mon. I'm gonna be empty pretty soon. Sentinel's no fun, he ain't got any distance. I need competition. Show me what'cha got!"

"Twenty feet," Prowl, still sans his visor, turned to the sound of liquid hitting the rocks. His lips suddenly curled in a smirk. "Is that all?"

To Jazz's astonishment, Prowl retracted his port and extended his output nozzle. Using his fingers to point it forward, he leaned back just slightly, scrunched his lips and let loose a geyser that sprayed the grass at least ten feet beyond the rocks.

"Holy...slag, Prowl!" Jazz's laughter rang through the forest. He couldn't believe Prowl had it in him. "What do you _drink?_"

"Oil, coolant...same as you. I trust you cycle yours until only water is left behind?" Prowl replied with a question. He reigned his stream to a less powerful flow, finishing up on the rocks near his feet. Then he retracted his output nozzle and crossed his arms across his chest. Sunlight shone through leaves and drew patterns on his face. For a few moments he appeared to have eyes and Jazz stood in awe.

From an objective standpoint, Prowl's lack of eyes was a shocking deformity. Not even Jazz could fully shake off those drilled-in ideas that such flaws were considered hideous, sinful and not to be looked upon. Rather than see Prowl as ugly, he just felt bad for him. Then his inner censor would kick him in the face and remind him that only those truly helpless were pitiful creatures, and Prowl was _far_ from helpless.

"Jazz? Did you walk off on me?"

"Huh?" He remembered Prowl asked a question and quickly answered. "Oh. Yeah, my waste might have a little oil in it, but usually it's water. Won't hurt the plants. I wouldn't do that."

"Good. So--hm, you seem to have stamina over power, or are my audios deceiving me?"

"Huh? Ack!" Jazz had forgotten about his own fluids and managed water half the path. He aimed for the same place Prowl used and smiled sheepishly. "It's been a few days since I emptied. Anyway..." He completed his output cycle in silence. By habit he gave his nozzle two shakes before letting it retract. "Hey, Prowl?"

Prowl faced him. "Yes?"

"You let me guide you here--but could you walk on your own without your visor's help? I mean...what do you do if it fritzes?"

"I walk just like everyone else with legs."

"Alone? But, what about--"

"I _can_ manage without it." Prowl snorted, turned on his heel and started down the dirt path. "Observe."

"Wait!"

"No. You asked. Now, observe."

It was scary to watch Prowl walk through the forest without his visor. He'd hardly taken two steps before he tripped over a fallen log and fell flat on his face in a cloud of brown dust. Jazz raced to help him up, but Prowl waved him off and regained a vertical base unassisted. Not two seconds later, before he'd even brushed the dirt of his fall off, he bumped his head on a branch. Somehow, he never lost his dignity despite the embarrassment tightening his bottom lip. He veered gradually towards the trees, stepped between them and began to wander in completely the wrong direction. It was painful to watch him struggle over something as simple as finding his way through a forest. Before Jazz could jump in and lead him back onto the path, Prowl tilted his head towards a tapping noise and corrected himself without a word.

After his initial trip-ups, he proved himself just as rigid and confident as a sighted mech. It simply took him longer to get oriented.

"Prowl?" Jazz hedged. He fell into step with him and kept both hands open, ready to catch him if he tripped or veered off-course again.

"No." Prowl snapped through gritted teeth, "I _can_ manage."

__

Yeah, but barely, Jazz replied silently. In some ways, it hurt when Prowl's blindness made itself this obvious. The visor disguised it so well that more than once Jazz forgot Prowl wasn't actually _seeing_.

They slowly approached a steep incline above a rushing creek. Prowl didn't seem aware of it, his pace steady as he moved closer and closer to the dangerous edge.

"Watch out!" Jazz wrapped his hands Prowl's arm, halting him before he stepped off into the abyss.

"Do you mind!" Prowl snapped.

"You almost walked off a cliff!"

"I did not! I know it's there!" Prowl's mouth scrunched in a frown, "The water is about sixty feet down. I just wanted to enjoy the sound without the edge in the way. _Primus_..."

Jazz calculated the distance and was shocked at how accurately Prowl measured just by listening. He clenched his jaw so he wouldn't sound scared. "S-sorry. C'mon, let's head back to camp."

Prowl tried to pull free. "Jazz--"

"Hush. You've proved enough. You're going to get lost again and hurt yourse-OOF!" Jazz was suddenly seized by the wrist and a sweeping kick knocked his feet off kilter. He landed hard on his back, grunting, the shadows and trees above him blotted out by the dark form still grasping his wrist.

"Stop coddling me!" Prowl's tone was icy. He knelt and Jazz felt the pressure of his knee against his chest plates. "Let me make one thing clear, Jazz." His lips curled in a snarl, "I managed to survive this long, and _half_ of that time was _without_ the visor. _Don't_ underestimate me. Understood?"

Jazz's Spark crashed and sank. At the same time, anger boiled in his processors. Prowl's bullheadedness had the potential to get him killed! He swung between anguish and sorrow until his temper took over. Grabbing Prowl's knee, he used the grip Prowl had on his arm to push him into the ground.

"I worry because I _care!_" Jazz growled, his cool, creamy voice taking on a razor's edge. "That's what you do when you love someone! I acted the way I would for anybody about to fall to their death!"

"Tch! You were walking next to me with both hands held out like a fool," Prowl said. "I felt your body heat all over my arm. I found that extremely offensive. Were you _expecting_ me to fall and crack my head open the entire hundred feet between the path and the gorge?"

Stung, Jazz hadn't thought about the effects his protective behavior had on Prowl. For a moment he boiled in rage. Then he let his Metallikato training take over--he cleared his head, weighed Prowl's words and found the truth buried within them. His actions were unintentionally insulting to Prowl's intelligence, abilities and confidence. Without meaning to, he'd been saying he knew exactly what Prowl _couldn't_ do, as opposed to what he _could_. No wonder Prowl responded so coldly. Right then he learned never to question Prowl's abilities, because Prowl would turn around and act on it just to prove how able-bodied he was.

"Aw, Prowl..." Jazz loosened his grip and the tight bubble in his chest rose to his throat. "I'm sorry. I was being a real glitch head, wasn't I? I only wanted to help. Guess I did a bad job offering it, eh?"

"Indeed."

His Spark still sinking, Jazz scooted back to let the other mech stand up.

Prowl turned his head a moment and seemed to stare straight into Jazz's chest.

"Pr--"

"Shh!"

Jazz wisely shut up. Around them, the wind gently rustled the pine needles. A graceful white and black bird with a red stripe decorating its head noisily pecked the side of a tree several yards away.

Silently, Prowl knelt and ran his hands over the bases of two pine trees. "Camp is northeast from here." He faced the rapping noise when it started again, "Ah, now I know where we are."

Jazz gawked. "What the..."

"The moss on these tree trunks. Myth says the north side has the most moss, but the nature book I read said it grows all the way around--which it does--but it is more lush on the side facing the equator, which is south of us."

Then he abruptly twisted himself once more towards the woodpecker and marched down the path. He might have been shaky at first in the unfamiliar setting, but once oriented he had a better sense of direction than a cyber-compass!

"Man!" Jazz skipped a few steps to catch up, awed.

"What?"

"You sure you're blind?" Jazz teased.

A soft snort answered him. "Ten feet from camp, on the north side of the path, a woodpecker is building its nest. That's my landmark sound. The wind just tells me where the trees are. Can you hear them, Jazz?"

"Uh..." Jazz tried to listen, he really did, but all he could hear was the occasional creak of branches shifting. "I hear the branches moving. Does that count?"

"Mm, no. It's--hard to explain. Here." Prowl grabbed Jazz's arm and led him to the nearest tree. "The wind blows through the trees. This tree partially blocks the sound created by _other_ trees. It's a sound shadow. Listen for it as we walk past the trees. You will hear a swish."

This time, Jazz noticed the difference. How could Prowl detect this from over ten feet away?

"Wow..." He couldn't control his awe, "So you feel this difference too?"

"Mmhmm."

They arrived back at the camp. Prowl stopped and smiled over his shoulder. "Accepted."

"Huh?"

"Your apology."

"Oh." Elation bubbled like carbonation in Jazz's fuel tanks. The brief wedge between them had crumbled and vanished, forgotten like yesterday's dust. He grinned at him, "Sweet!"

Prowl extended a hand to confirm the nearest portable berth. Using it as a guide, he trailed it with his hand until he'd seated himself by the fire. He spoke matter-of-factly, "The flux smells ready."

Once more, he was right.

__

Prowl, you're slaggin' amazing! I swear to Primus if anybody ever tries to drag you in, I'll fight with everything I've got to protect you. You're proof that not every flawed bot is helpless. It might take ya longer, but you can do anything I can.

Jazz plopped down next to Prowl and reached for the wadded flux sitting on the end of a metal rod. He tried branches first, but they burned, so metal had to suffice. The sweet, sticky substance melted in his mouth.

"Mm, good stuff. Hey, Prowl..." He faced his companion with genuine curiosity, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Prowl answered. If he still harbored any anger, it did not show.

"When your visor's on...where do you feel the oscillators? I mean...is it a buzzing in your head or--"

"The actual vibrations occur inside my head, but I feel them in my face. From here," he pointed to the bridge of his nose, "to here," his finger moved to his chin, "And from here to here," he gestured to the juncture where his cheeks faded into black armor. "I had to learn how to interpret the signals because there are so many coming in at once. A long object that generates many frequencies and a void in the middle might be a brightly-colored billboard half in shadow between two trees. The vibrations tend to lose detail accuracy at a distance of twenty feet--which means you go from black and white to just a figure moving against a static background. In battle, I use my visor to detect movement, aim my throwing disks and spot points where I can take cover."

Nodding, Jazz digested the information a little at a time. He couldn't hide his fascination. "How d'ya tell friend from foe?"

A smirk, "Transponder signals, naturally. You can't hear me pinging your com, can you?"

"Eh?"

Prowl chuckled and licked a piece of flux off his thumb. "Stealth in everything."

"That's awesome. I mean...well, you're still an ordinary guy an' all, but wow, the way you work with it. Mind if I check your visor out?"

Jazz was surprised when Prowl plucked his visor up and handed it to him. It was coated in blue optic glass. The back had reflective azure photo sensors, which created the illusion of lighted optics glowing underneath. A port in the nose piece matched exactly the port and pins on the bridge of Prowl's nose.

"Funky..." Jazz handed the visor back to its owner. Such amazing technology compacted into that tiny space--it bred a million questions in his processors that he quickly squelched. He didn't want to annoy Prowl any more than he already had today. So, for conversation's sake, he changed the subject. "What kind of trees are these? Any idea?"

"White pine." Prowl replied, slipping his visor back on and looking up at the branches shifting overhead. He bit absently into his flux wad. It left a white smear on his bottom lip. "I love their smell. It's so...natural."

"I love _your_ smell," Jazz fake-cackled. He leaned over and jokingly sniffed at Prowl's neck, taking in the scents of warm steel and oil. He got half a flux wad in the face for his efforts. An accident--but he wiped it off and rubbed it on Prowl's cheek anyway.

"Do you mind?" Prowl jerked back. He peeled the flux off his face and threw it back at Jazz.

"Hm..." Jazz picked the flux from his arm and smeared it on Prowl's chest, shoulders, cheeks and neck. "One, two, three, four, I declare a flux war."

"How mature," Prowl said.

"Maturity's overrated." Jazz smirked.

"Well, in that case..." Prowl reached for the white goop on the end of his metal rod and grinned wickedly. Reflections of the fire danced over his visor. Next thing Jazz knew, flux splattered across his chest and arm.

"Oh, that's how you wanna play this? You're _on_."

In a moment they were running through the forest, laughing and throwing sticky goop at each other like a pair of Sparklings. Their game evolved to kissing and touching, and finally to their tongues cleaning each other's cheeks and fingers off. Ten minutes later, the forest rang with the sound of two mechs wrapped in ecstasy.

Jazz came back online first. His hands were still wrapped around Prowl's shoulder rockets. Beneath him, Prowl slowly turned his head.

"Hey. Damn, you're good."

"Hm? Thanks."

Jazz kissed his nose. "Love you."

Prowl smiled, "I know."

"Your moans are sexy."

"Mm...so are yours," Prowl purred.

Jazz rolled on his side so he and Prowl were laying face to face. "Hey, Prowl, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"You ever pull any huge pranks at the Academy? I know there's a few big ones that people still talk about."

"What makes you think I'd participate in such a thing?"

Jazz's jaw dropped. He'd forgotten how Prowl preferred the shadows--a place as far away from the spotlight as possible.

"The lubricant off the balcony in the auditorium."

"Huh?"

"Sentinel's big speech right after he became a member of the Elite Guard? Someone took a leak over the roof and it splashed all over his face." Prowl's thin lips tilted in a wide, decidedly smug smirk. "The prankster was never caught."

Sitting up, Jazz stared in awe. "That was _you_?"

"I had the aim and the ability to disappear," his smirk grew, "I never did like Sentinel. Always so arrogant. Optimus is a better leader than he'll ever be, and everyone knows it."

"Sentinel has his uses, but mostly he kisses up to Ultra Magnus--who was absolutely mad out of his mind that day. So, c'mon, did you piss from the roof or dump a bucket--"

"The tap, naturally. It was more offensive that way. Why? Is it a legend already?"

"Heck, yeah!" Jazz barely concealed his laughter, "To this day people still wonder about the roof pisser. I can't believe it...I never thought _you_ were that crazy!"

"I was young," Prowl grinned, "I'm still young, but older than the wild mech I was when I pulled such a foolish stunt. But someone said I was too afraid to do it and I proved them wrong."

"Figures."

"What about you? Name your best prank."

"Ohhh...slag. That's a long list. Uhhh..." Jazz rifled through his memories. He was the only mech in the Academy brave enough to prank Ultra Magnus. Ooh, Magnus had half the school cleaning the waste recycling units after this. "Were you there the day Ultra Magnus' hammer mysteriously appeared on the Infinity Chain statue?"

Prowl stared. His mouth formed a perfect "O" shape. "You?"

"Guilty!"

To Jazz's surprise, Prowl covered his mouth, doubled up and guffawed with his whole body. Even his hardest laughter was subdued, seen as a tremble more than heard. At least, it started that way. In a moment his vocal processor caught up and his low, rumbling laugh burst through the forest. A sexy sound in Jazz's ears.

"I was--wondering--what the heck that was on the statue," Prowl gasped, "I thought it was a mop."

"I put a mop head over the hammer part--" now Jazz broke up, "Two bots doing it with Ultra Magnus' hammer _badly disguised_ as a mop is pretty funny, don't you think?"

Prowl nodded his head, his body relaxing more and more by the minute. "Agreed...wow...it seems like so long ago. I'm surprised we never met on Academy grounds."

"Me, too."

As much as he was enjoying the moment, Jazz forced himself to acknowledge they were on a mission. He looked over Prowl's shoulder where the grass dropped off into a steep slope and his sense of adventure wiggled its fingers. Getting the AllSpark fragment sooner would leave more free time later.

"Hey, Prowl?"

"Mm?" came the drowsy reply.

Jazz thumbed Prowl's pouty bottom lip. "Feel like climbing down that gorge you were listenin' to earlier?"

That made Prowl's face light up. "I'd enjoy that immensely. Isn't the shard supposedly down there as well?"

"Yeah, last time I checked. Kinda why I suggested it." Jazz lowered his head to nibble Prowl's smooth throat. "Climbing would be a bit scenic, don'tcha think?"

"It would. Mmh..." Prowl squirmed and purred, "...but we'll never get anywhere if you keep that up."

Prowl had a point, but his neck tasted nice! Jazz lamented the impossibility of climbing while keeping his teeth firmly latched onto the other mech's delicious throat. He finally forced himself to kip up and offer Prowl his hand.

Five minutes later, Prowl and Jazz slowly scooted down the steep, grassy incline. Recent rains left the ground muddy and slippery, but tree roots offered strong enough handholds to keep them from falling.

"Man, I'm gonna need a good wash after this." Jazz grinned over at Prowl, who was also equally muddy, "Same for you."

"A little dirt never hurt anyone," Prowl smirked back. "I'm surprised you don't mind the mud. I thought the Elite Guard hated getting its hands dirty."

Jazz laughed and tested a root before letting it take the weight of his foot. "Well, we kinda--whoa!" He jolted when his feet nearly toppled into the mouth of a cave concealed by roots. "This isn't on any maps!"

"What?"

"A hole."

Prowl slid over, "How deep is it?"

"Lemme see if I can look. It's pretty dark down there." Jazz worked himself around and pushed a few roots out of the way. It was a large, keyhole shaped opening that seemed to stretch almost straight down. "I can't measure it, but my sensors are pickin' up carbon."

"It could be a mine." Prowl said, studying the opening, "An ancient mine...so old that erosion and forestry concealed it. It's likely even the humans don't know it's here. Can you see any ropes or pulleys?"

Jazz leaned further in for a better view. Old, rotted wood marked the presence of a ladder or pulley system just barely large enough for his hands and feet. He pressed his fingers against the boards to test their strength. They seemed strong enough.

"I think there's a way to get down there. Sit tight, I'll see if the shard's inside."

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"Looks like it." Jazz smiled over at Prowl. "See ya in a few."

He swung his legs over and placed his feet on the nearest rungs. Then, easing himself down, he let the slats take his weight and looked down without the sun's glare interrupting his vision.

The mine floor was at least fifty feet down. Old tracks whose cross ties had long since rotted away criss-crossed the area like cracks on the black ground. The rusty steel rails vanished into a small lake of water, which existed either from seepage or an ancient flood. It was too murky to judge its depth.

__

Man, times like this make me wish I installed night vision. Oh well, nothing to it. The shard's probably mixed into the coal. I'll poke around and be out of here in--

Reality lurched. Jazz heard a creak. His handhold was crumbling.

"Jazz!"

Jazz caught Prowl's hand just as the ladder gave way. The sound of wood hitting rock and water created a hollow clamor in the dankness. All that stood between him and a nasty fall was Prowl's hand.

The mushy ground under Prowl's knees started to give.

"Prowl! We're too heavy!"

"Pull up, Jazz!"

"I can't," Jazz cried, "We'll both fall!"

Prowl strained, "Jazz! Swing to the side! There must be something you can grab onto!"

"We'll both fall if I swing! Look, there's water below. I'll be fine!"

"No!" Growling, Prowl tried to pull Jazz up. His efforts sent rocks bouncing off Jazz's armor. "Jazz!"

__

It's one or both of us, Jazz bit his lip. He gazed once more at Prowl's grimacing visage and let go. Something unseen smashed into his face. His reality went blue and painful before fading entirely.

.o

"_Jazz!_" Prowl shouted into the void. His fuel pumps throbbed seemingly in the back of his throat. It was silent at first because Jazz didn't scream when he fell. He waited anxiously for the splash. His audios heard a sickening clank followed by the crash of something large, metal and heavy slamming into a puddle.

The water wasn't deep enough.

"Jazz?" Prowl yelled, "Jazz! Are you all right?"

No answer.

"Jazz! Answer me!"

Silence.

Prowl tried pinging Jazz's com link, but heard only static. His Spark squeezed in on itself. Why did Jazz have to be so curious? He stuck his head down in the hole and scanned the area with his oscillators. The rock wall under his knees was rough enough to climb. He swallowed his terror and braced himself for the long journey down. It felt like entering the belly of a massive beast. The wall felt very unstable, cracking under his fingers and shedding small stones that plunked on his armor.

Partway into his climb, his feet encountered an outcropping. Tiny glass fragments crackled under his soles.

__

Jazz's visor...

Now more worried than ever, he moved as fast as he safely could. Every inch he moved seemed to create another mile. Did this cavern have an end?

"Jazz, if you can hear me, I'm coming."

__

Please be all right.

Finally, he touched down on the hard, dusty ground. This place eerily reminded him of the moon--there wasn't enough light for his visor to accurately sense his environment. He just hoped this sojourn didn't involve Starscream.

Prowl sneered and forced his mind to focus on the task at hand. Instinct prompted him to get onto his knees and scan the ground with his hands. Jazz was here somewhere. He worked his way slowly towards the dank smell of algae-infested water.

His probing fingertips found a foot.

"Jazz! I'm here, Jazz. Right here." Prowl scooted forward into the muck, his hands assessing Jazz's body positioning. He needed to know what his injuries were before he did anything else.

Jazz was sprawled facedown in the water with his legs folded underneath him. Prowl almost regurgitated his flux--Jazz's legs were twisted sideways and cables were palpable through tears in the cyber-mesh around his knees. Primus! He probably ripped out every wire and servo when he landed! Prowl forced himself to continue, sticking his fingers into joints to ensure they were intact. At last he came to Jazz's head. Other than his legs, he seemed okay.

"Jazz..." Prowl rolled him over to get his head out of the muddy water and lightly touched his face. He felt glass shards, the hollows of bare sockets and tiny, greasy servos. For a second time he nearly chucked everything he ate. The glass he stepped on earlier wasn't from Jazz's visor. He hadn't put it down before climbing into the mine! That...that idiot!

"Jazz!" he tapped Jazz's chest. "_Jazz!_"

"Unh..." Jazz shifted his lower body, "Ow, my legs. What ha--"

"Grr!" Prowl cupped Jazz's cheek. His throat ached, "You glitch...you--almost killed yourself."

"It was me or you," Jazz replied groggily. He moved his head and the servomechanisms responsible for moving his eyeballs rattled painfully in their housings. "Hey, how'd you get down here? Where's the light? Did the mine cave in?"

"Jazz...your optics..."

"What?"

"You shattered them."

"You mean I'm blind?" Panic painted a shrill edge in his voice, "Prowl! You serious? I'm blind?"

"...yes."

Jazz groaned and put his head back down.

"And your legs are twisted. I can fix those." Prowl forced himself into action. Focusing on helping Jazz prevented him from over-thinking, which meant he avoided making irrational decisions. "Look, stay still. We'll deal with your eyes in a minute."

Prowl didn't bother mentioning Jazz was in good company when it came to going blind. Right now he was worried about water getting into his circuitry. He used his fingertips to examine Jazz's knee joints, relieved to find they were merely knocked out of alignment and not ripped apart.

"This is going to hurt."

"I can take it."

He wrapped his legs around Jazz's thigh and wrenched his lower leg upwards. Jazz didn't scream until Prowl re-aligned the other leg. It was a sound he never wanted to hear again.

"Try to stand up."

Still obviously in shock, Jazz pulled himself up. Metal ground together...but if it was his knees or his broken optics shifting, Prowl couldn't be sure. He made no indications that standing caused him pain. "Can you fix my eyes?"

"They're _shattered_, Jazz. Sari's key is the only remedy."

Jazz nearly sank to his knees again. Anybody could see he was terrified--Prowl wondered why until he realized Jazz was reliant on his eyesight. He didn't spend his whole life without it. The sighted valued their vision. When deprived of it suddenly, their entire world became unfamiliar and terrifying.

"Don't move. I'll radio for help."

"Good idea. The fall knocked mine out."

Prowl's com-link didn't work either. Slag! The carbon deposits were blocking his signal. "I can't get through! We have to get outside. And..." He tilted his head towards the opening he could hear overhead, "there's no way we can escape the way we entered..."

"You can't climb out alone?"

"It's not stable enough to climb back up." Seriousness overtook Prowl's fear. Jazz's broken optics were leaking energon and mech fluid. If they were down here for too long, he had the potential to bleed to death.

He picked a large wad of flux off his shoulder--a leftover from their earlier romp. Without a word, he broke it into two pieces, walked up to Jazz and pressed them into his eye sockets.

"Hey!"

"Put your visor down. You're bleeding. This will stop it."

Jazz did as Prowl said.

"We have to find a way out of this mine. Jazz, listen to me." Prowl grasped his arm, "I will teach you methods of surviving without your sight, but you have to pay attention and do exactly as I say. I can get us out of here, but only if you learn to function as a blind mech until your sight is restored. Trust me and you'll survive."


	4. Chapter 4

Blind.

Falling rendered him _blind_.

Jazz fought down panic as distant memories of steam, tools and motor oil crashed through his mind. He was flawed now. _Flawed_...

The flux made his face itch and stung the exposed neural wires in his eye sockets. How strange that the void he saw wasn't completely black. It was like a flat curtain of the deepest blue stretched between him and the world. This curtain faded to black towards the edges with speckles of maroon and white static seemingly projected onto the blue area from somewhere over his shoulder. It was probably his visual processors getting feedback from his damaged photo-receptors--basically, he was "seeing" the pain of his injury.

"We have to find a way out of this mine. Jazz, listen to me." Prowl grasped his arm, jarring the memories away. "I will teach you methods of surviving without your sight, but you have to pay attention and do exactly as I say. I can get us out of here, but only if you learn to function as a blind mech until your sight is restored. Trust me and you'll survive."

Jazz shook his head, but stopped when doing so made his broken optics ache. He was terrified to take even a step and risk falling down another hole. "Y-you've done this all your life. It's what you know. I don't know _this_..."

"You have to learn!" Prowl growled, "Now pay attention. Can you hear the hole?"

"N-no! I don't know!"

"_FOCUS_, Jazz!" Disembodied hands grasped his cheeks, pulling him forward. "Jazz. Jazz, you need to focus. I can not magically restore your sight. There is no quick fix. You must adapt! You still have four working senses. _Use_ them. Now, can you hear the hole?"

Hearing Prowl raise his voice shocked Jazz to silence. Prowl was right...no miracle solution. Getting past this dilemma meant facing it head on. No shortcuts, detours or back roads. He quieted his intakes and tilted his head towards the strange rushing sound somewhere above. "I hear a whooshing noise."

"Yes. That is your first landmark. Now, we're going to walk to the wall directly beneath the hole. Count the number of steps it takes to get there."

"Don't let go of my arm!"

"I won't," Prowl said gently, "Now, take it slowly." His feet began to tap and crackle against the ground, tugging Jazz along. "One, two..."

"...three, four, five..." Jazz picked up the count. Every step sent tiny pains through his knee joints. He ducked his head, instinctively trying to see his own feet. Ten steps later, Prowl grasped his wrist and guided it to the rocky wall. There was something gross and slimy in the moist cracks. Jazz's olfactory sensors detected a weird stench. Above him, the hole sounded like a wind tunnel. "Weird, I think I can smell the wall."

"I know. It's algae, a harmless organism that grows in wet places. That means sunlight sometimes enters the hole you fell through. Now, can you smell the water?"

Jazz was once again amazed at how much Prowl knew about their environment without being able to see it. He faced behind him. The water had an obvious odor like wet rocks and algae scum. "Yeah...it stinks."

"That's your second landmark. Now...hold onto my elbow."

Funny, Jazz never paid a lot of attention to the general sound of Prowl's voice. It was pleasant, albeit a tad cold with the same rumble as a metal file. He could actually hear his stern bottom lip naturally pouting out like a tiny cliff. It gave the impression that he always talked through the corner of his mouth--something Jazz never noticed just by watching his face. He wouldn't sound the same without it. This realization made him wonder how much Prowl could guess about a person's mouth just by listening to them speak. Could he tell the difference between a smile, a grimace and a sneer?

"Jazz?" Prowl's voice came out muffled because he was facing the other way. Another correct assessment Jazz was surprised to recognize so easily.

"Sorry. I'm just trying to orient." Jazz grasped Prowl's left elbow in his right hand. Without a word, Prowl started forward and Jazz swallowed another wave of terror. He focused on the sound of their footsteps ricocheting around the room. He could hear their echoes on the far wall. Up ahead, the sound seemed to break.

"Is that an opening?"

"Yes...you can hear it?"

"Yeah, but I'm not exactly sure where it is."

"We're almost to it. Duck down, it's low."

Jazz had visions of a boulder smashing his face. He bent completely forward when Prowl's elbow dropped and didn't straighten until he felt Prowl do so first. This new room loomed around him more than the previous one. Their steps echoed smoothly. The walls here were scraped clean. Feeling the side of the opening confirmed this suspicion. That meant this area had been excavated sometime in the past.

"How come you're so confident in here?" Jazz asked, "You got kinda lost in the forest."

"The forest is outside. These caves are more enclosed--allowing more places for sound to echo. Now, that doesn't mean you rely on me to avoid bumping your head or tripping. I may pass under or step over something you catch, so stay focused. Tell me if you hear something, even if you think I've already noticed. It's possible I may _not_. I am..." And he paused, as if the next statement physically hurt to admit, "I am not perfect."

"S'okay, Prowl. I'm learnin' as we go." Jazz patted his shoulder, "Remember what I said about nobody bein' without flaw? I meant it. It's okay not to be perfect."

"Thanks."

Jazz grinned despite knowing it wouldn't be seen.

Prowl continued without a word, leading Jazz around a complicated maze of twists and turns.

"Count the turns. They are a landmark."

"Gotcha."

Six twists and then the ground became a shallow incline. Prowl's heels pinged on metal.

"Tracks. This one seems to be the main pathway. Watch your step--they're in ruins." And the sound of shifting rubble attested to his statement. "I'm going to follow this set and see where it goes. We might find a way out."

"Wait," Jazz tugged backwards. He heard a rushing sound to his left, like water falling into a pool. "There's water somewhere. Shouldn't we be following it?"

"It's in another cavern."

"How can you tell?"

"It's obvious. No smell."

Once again, Prowl's lifetime experience in this matter showed through. Jazz tripped on one of the broken cross ties Prowl seemed to step over without a hitch. He regained his footing, sighed heavily and ducked his head. His self-confidence had taken a nose dive.

Prowl stopped walking. He seemed to sense Jazz's sullen mood. Turning around, he lowered his voice to a gentle whisper, "Jazz, I know this is frightening. You are in a situation you aren't accustomed to. Your world is visually oriented. You still think in visual terms, but, now that your optics are broken, you feel lost."

"I'll say!" Jazz sighed, "I don't think I could live this way. No offense..."

"It takes time. It took me time to understand that the rest of the world is a place of color, light and darkness. You've helped me many times to understand the visual world--now it's my turn to help you understand the sensations, smells and sounds of the blind world. You can still do what you did while sighted, it's only the methods in which you did them that need to change until you get your vision back."

"But...again, no offense...I feel so helpless."

"It's natural." Prowl stroked his cheek, "You will be fine. I'll take care of you as long as you help me do so. Listen to what I tell you and I won't lead you to harm."

Jazz couldn't avoid smiling. Prowl sounded so calm, cool and capable. He trusted him with his life. "Guess I better pay attention."

"Good. Now, a word of advice? Don't shuffle your feet. Pick them up. You'll trip less."

Prowl faced forward again, offered Jazz his elbow and resumed his role as a guide. Jazz followed, and this time he made sure to pick his feet up.

.o

Having Jazz's life in his hands made Prowl more nervous than he'd let on. His lights kept bouncing off the metal tracks and creating reflections that generated false readings in his oscillators. He turned them off and resolved himself to his audios and tactile sensors. Every footstep he took let him hear the size of the cavern--a large, uneven room shaped like an irregular crescent. It wasn't always this way. It used to be more open, but, judging by the bones he felt poking through the rubble, Prowl could tell part of the wall caved in long ago.

"Man, what do you think happened in here?" Jazz asked. Scratching noises indicated he was touching the caved-in part of the cavern wall.

"A mining accident. I'd speculate they miscalculated how far they were blasting and it brought part of the cavern down."

"How sad. Hey, hold up. I wanna see if there's a way out over this rockslide."

Prowl stood still while Jazz made the climb. He was proud of his desire to explore despite having no eyesight. Perhaps he'd finally realized that blindness wasn't necessarily a prison.

"Frag." Rocks crackled as Jazz slid back down. His feet twanged against the steel rails behind Prowl. "It's blocked all the way. Some poor human must've tried the same thing. Found a whole skeleton just sittin' up there, waitin' for a miracle."

"Hm...well, I applaud you for making the attempt." Prowl patted Jazz's arm, letting him grasp his elbow before continuing onward.

The tracks split three ways. Prowl tripped over the rusty axel of a mine car, and only Jazz's quick action stopped him from smashing his face.

"You okay, Prowl?"

"Yes. Be careful, there may be more debris on the tracks."

They continued onward, Prowl using his toes to check for debris between each footstep. Occasionally, Jazz found something Prowl happened to step over. Prowl warned Jazz not to move anything he found because it risked them tripping again if they had to retrace their steps.

Something loomed ahead. Prowl stopped walking and Jazz bumped into his back.

"Prowl?"

"The path is blocked." He said. "Stay here, I'll see what it is and find out if there's a way around. Lean on the rocks...it'll feel less like standing in a void."

Jazz's shoulder clanked against the boulder. "Yeah, I'll stay right here."

Nodding to himself, Prowl stepped left, his hands trailing the textured rocks. It seemed to be two boulders that broke and settled after a cave-in. He pressed on until his fingers felt the wooden support frames of the opening. There was hole between it and the wall just large enough for his fingertips to slip through. Prowl kept his hand there, feeling for air movement. There was a cool draft, though faint. He bent down and scanned with his visor. No daylight. He touched the frame again and noticed warping and splintering. The slightest pressure created cracking noises. Pebbles rained down in a miniature rockslide. Not a good sign at all.

"Jazz, feel around the other side of this rock. See if you find a hole we can squeeze through."

He heard the tap of feet, the scrape of armored fingers sliding over rock and a soft clank muffled by the boulder. Wood creaked and pebbles rattled.

"No can do. It's solid here." Jazz's voice grew as he made his way to the exact spot where Prowl left him. "Should we try to push 'em out of the way? I'm stronger than I look--I can probably move these."

"No." Prowl pursed his lips in a frown. "Moving these rocks could bring the rest of this mine down. The frame around this opening is severely warped."

Jazz sighed heavily. Disappointment robbed his voice of its usual sparkle. "I noticed. So...what now?"

Using the boulder as a guide, Prowl walked back to Jazz's side and nudged his hand with his elbow. "This cavern has more than one opening. One might lead to the water you heard."

"Right..." Jazz had his head down again.

Prowl faced him and cupped his cheek, "You're doing fine."

"I'm still scared."

"It's all right." Prowl's feelings for him rose like smoke to color his words, "We're in this together. We'll get out of this together. Just hold onto me."

They about-faced together and retraced their steps. As they walked, Prowl struggled against the bitterness crawling towards the back of his throat. He never had this when he was in Jazz's position--when he was new to a world of frightening sounds, voids and sensation. For a split nanosecond he felt an overwhelming urge to shake Jazz's arm off so he could continue alone. Then guilt overrode that anguish. It wasn't fair of him to take out his anger at society on someone who didn't deserve it.

Besides, long ago, for a few moments, someone did help him. One of his first conscious memories was someone in the scrap yard letting him escape. They could have thrown him back into the compactor--that horrible, crushing thing that smelled like death personified--but they let him go. He always swore he'd love that mech forever if he ever met him again. But those events took place long ago. That bot was executed for letting a flawed mech go free--because by law anybody harboring a flawed mech was as good as flawed themselves.

Still, Prowl found it hard to forget about that idealized fantasy even in the face of someone real that loved him.

"Jazz."

Jazz jerked his head up. "What? Is there a hole? Are we lost?"

"No. Calm down! It's just..." Prowl sighed, "I guess I'm envying you right now."

"Why? I'm a mess."

"You have someone here to help you." The emotion bled into his face until his lips quivered, "I guess I'm...I'm remembering my early life. I gained consciousness in a horrible place. And there was--"

"Hey." He felt Jazz's free hand cup his shoulder and turn him around. "That reminds me..."

"What?"

"Remember that convo we had yesterday? The subject I didn't want to discuss?"

Prowl twisted his lips to the side. Sometimes, Jazz's timing defied logic. "Yes, why?"

Jazz's sigh made his shoulders and hands heave. He sounded as if what would come out of his mouth might set the world on fire.

.o

And that was if Jazz's face didn't burn off first. Why did this memory surface now, of all times? Could be because of the thin, graceful arm in his grasp? He held and touched Prowl's beautiful body many times...so why now? This didn't seem like the time or the place. Then again...this seemed like the perfect moment. They couldn't see each other. Jazz didn't have to watch the pain or anger his words might incur write themselves across Prowl's face.

"Way before I started learning Metallikato, I..." he gritted his teeth, "used to help shut down and clean up the remains of flawed mechs. The statistics about the flawed are lies. It happens way more often than the public realizes...more than half of those stay in one piece long enough to get Sparks. Those were the hardest to put down, to reach in and extinguish those precious little lights while they looked into my eyes. I used to hold their hand while I did it...I wonder how many understood me when I told them I was sorry. I _hated_ it. I saw so much death, Prowl..."

He felt Prowl stiffen and his temperature dropped.

"I was running the compactor one day when I heard screaming. I thought one of the cleanup drones fell in again--they do that a lot--so I shut it off and reached in, and something grabbed my hand."

The events were so clear in Jazz's memory. A plaintive voice screaming across the darkness of one of Cybertron's coldest nights. The steaming compactor stopped long enough for a probing hand to nudge aside detritus and burst free. Jazz grasped it, prepared to twist it right off the arm and discard it, and then the wiry fingers gripped back with such strength that he nearly fell into the crushing machinery. A second hand emerged to feel its brother first, then Jazz's. That hand crept up his arm to his shoulder. The mech--too dirty to identify more than its white fingers--finally grabbed his face and felt it. He didn't have a visor then, but he did wear a tinted facial shield as protection against debris. Its darkness made identifying the flawed mech's face impossible. All he saw was that greasy, oil-streaked palm pressed against his mask.

How ironic was that? Autobots were supposedly programmed to protect life, yet they destroyed the flawed.

He recalled pinning that bot down, forcing its Spark chamber open and feeling for the shutdown switch.

"I'm sorry," he said to it, "I have to do this. I'm so sorry..."

The whole time, thin hands held his wrists, trying with all their might to keep that Spark burning. For such a skinny thing, the flawed bot had an incredibly strong grip.

"...so I was fighting with him...I refuse to call him an 'it'...and he said 'don't!' Perfectly clear."

Jazz felt Prowl's frame stiffen in his grasp. So tense his armor plating threatened to warp.

Memories continued to swallow him.

He never heard one of the flawed _speak_ before--usually the error was in their motherboards, rendering the body unable to process data and thus useless to the Spark. Their eyes would light up and they'd move when touched and pull away from painful stimuli, however, they never spoke or showed signs of cognition. Vegetables, as humans might say. Once in awhile he came across a body with missing limbs or limbs in the wrong locations, but those forms were always lifeless.

This bot was entirely different. A speaking mech was a conscious mech, and in his good conscience Jazz knew he'd never forgive himself if he extinguished a fully cognizant life form.

He let the bot go.

"Hey! You didn't let that slag escape, did you?" Jazz's superior yelled.

"No, sir!" Jazz shouted back. He watched the mech run and his Spark ached. That poor creature would probably be dead in less than a day. The compactor started back up. Metal parts crunched with a painful shriek. Jazz remembered seeing the thin, dirty white figure crawl over the scrap yard wall and--

Prowl's quaking hands cupped his face, cutting off the memory.

"Jazz," His voice was full of disbelief, "...that was _me_."

Just as he did millions of years ago, Jazz let his hands slip off Prowl's chest. Everything rushed back until the growing silence threatened to swallow him whole. Mech fluid gathered on the flux protecting his broken optics. He didn't know whether the pain he felt was his injuries or the memories.

"That was _me_," Prowl said again, louder. "Oh, Jazz..."

Jazz touched a shaking finger to Prowl's cheekbone. Words poured out in a flood he could not stop or control. "I--I quit the scrap yard after you spoke to me. I couldn't keep takin' lives like that. Not when I realized I was killing people who were probably normal except for one little mistake in their assembly. I know that doesn't change the fact that I did it." He swallowed a sob, fully prepared to be rejected. "Still want me, now that you know I used to kill people like you?"

There. He'd laid himself out on the chopping block and handed Prowl the axe. It was all up to Prowl, now.

Agonizing silence greeted him. It stretched on and on until hours seemed to pass between seconds. Jazz heard and felt Prowl's intakes hitching. The signals of his internals were confusing. Some ran cold, others were hot, and it made reading his emotions impossible.

"Right..." Jazz's shoulders sagged. He figured Prowl would react this way and the pain of their impending separation tore his Spark in two. "Once we get out of here, I'll pack up and--"

"Jazz, no, you--you misunderstand my silence. It's just...I-I can not believe this..." Prowl made a soft choking sound. His voice muffled as if he'd pressed a hand over his own mouth. "I thought..."

"Prowl?"

Suddenly, Prowl flung himself into Jazz's arms. Jazz staggered back and they dropped to their knees together, embracing amidst the dusty ruins of coal and rock.

"...I've dreamed of this moment my whole life. I even rehearsed in my mind what I'd say if I ever met the mech who let me go that day." Prowl's lips quivered--Jazz could hear it as a faint tremolo in his normally cool, steady voice, and he suddenly realized that Prowl was _crying_. "N-now--I'm in this m-moment...and I can only think of--of two words."

Jazz let their foreheads touch. Magma burned in the back of his throat and poured its invisible glow throughout his face. He knew there wouldn't be tears, but cupped Prowl's face and wiped his cheeks with his thumbs anyway. "I'm listening."

Soft lips moved up and quaked against his audio. From them, an untold depth of gratitude was born in two simple words.

"Thank you."

The universe stood still for a beat.

Jazz's face contorted as the past and present crashed together somewhere above his Spark. He almost crushed Prowl when he hugged him again. He couldn't believe this serendipitous twist of fate. For years, he wondered what happened to that seemingly helpless creature he set free millennia ago. Now, he wondered no more. He told himself right then that he'd love and protect this being for however long a Spark resided in his body.

"Jazz," Prowl's lips brushed Jazz's throat and cheek. "I know these aren't the best of surroundings..."

Jazz turned his head and their mouths mashed together in a swirl of teeth and tongues. "Yeah?"

A tremble raced over Prowl's frame. "Things like this don't just happen by accident. Fate meant for us to find each other."

"Coincidence..."

"No." There was a creak and warmth bathed Jazz's cheek. "Destiny."

"Prowl--"

"Shh. Just look at me."

"But I can't--"

"Your hands are eyes, Jazz."

Jazz felt Prowl take his hand and guide it towards his smooth face. He brought his other hand up to examine Prowl's stern, pouty bottom lip and its thinner brother. Somehow, his mind produced images of every feature his digits traced. Prowl's chin and his sharp cheekbones were beautiful under his fingertips. He marveled at the curves of his stubby nose and decorative chevron. The spaces where no optics existed--he'd removed his visor--were soft plateaus. With his fingers, he saw how Prowl's lips relaxed and parted in a silent, aching moan. Desire was consuming him and Jazz's hands were spreading the flames.

How Prowl looked didn't matter when he _felt_ so beautiful.

__

X-ray vision. Jazz mused, tilting his head back with a smile while his palms cupped Prowl's stunning face. He'd never forget this moment. _Prowl, you're gorgeous inside and out_.

Then Prowl led his hand downward to the parted armor in his chest. The warmth he felt was his bared Spark.

"Jazz..."

Jazz never imagined this moment happening while he had shattered optics and stood in the middle of a dank, dirty, smelly cave...but the joy of Prowl's offering quickly took over. Prowl was "the one" he wanted now and forever, and he'd bond with him in a slimy swamp if Prowl wanted it that way.

Thin fingers grasped his face and pulled him forward into the hot smoothness of an open-mouthed kiss. Prowl's tongue slid across his front teeth and roamed the insides of his cheeks. His kiss was still clumsy, yet in his clumsiness he managed to find every major sensory node in Jazz's mouth and set it on fire. With a moan, Jazz began his own assault, running the sides of his tongue over the bottom of Prowl's. He knew it drove Prowl crazy and enjoyed the shivers he felt race down his lover's frame.

"You scared?" he asked between lip locks.

"A little," Prowl admitted.

"Me, too," Jazz smiled. "Can you hear when I'm smiling?"

"All the time." Prowl's voice sounded lighter, "I'm smiling now...do you hear the difference in my voice?"

"I think so." Jazz used his hands to confirm what he heard. So it _was_ possible to hear a smile. "Ooh, solid."

Prowl kissed him again. "I _like_ your smile, Jazz."

Chuckling, Jazz exposed his own Spark. He was surprised to feel Prowl's fingers trail over his lower body and aft, working their way up his back. Being touched this way excited him--especially when he felt Prowl's thumb lovingly caress the red arrow he knew was painted on his lower abdomen. Lips followed those nimble fingers. They searched, kissed, suckled and drew satiny lines all over his body. Prowl bypassed his port--torture--and paused to kiss his Spark, which made his whole body tingle. Jazz felt him smiling into his chest.

"Now," he whispered, desire dropping his voice almost a full octave. "Please, Jazz, _now_."

"Let's do an ancient position..." Jazz panted. He bent and exhaled on the sensors surrounding Prowl's exposed Spark, and Prowl bucked in his arms. Smoothly, he went on, "There's one I just read about a few days ago. Wanna try it?"

"A-All right," Prowl was equally breathless. His attempts to sound calm failed utterly, but hearing him try was amusing. "Show me. Please, Jazz," he growled, "_NOW!_"

"Wow. Somebody's buzzin'." Jazz grinned at Prowl's frenzied state--did he realize how sexy he sounded while this highly aroused? He nibbled his way across Prowl's throat, waiting to see if he'd make any more sexy noises.

"Buzzing is hardly the word for it." He heard Prowl moan, "This may be our--only chance--unh--without interruption. Please, Jazz...make me yours."

"Anything you want," Jazz said slowly--just to drag this out a few moments longer. He spent one more second fondling the lovely jet packs sticking up off Prowl's shoulders. Feeling him squirm without shame was worth it. He sat on his knees and slid Prowl forward, plugging himself into his port. Sparks splashed everywhere like hot magma. Prowl's port was _nuclear_ with desire.

"_Oh, J-Jazz!_" Prowl's fingers clutched tight.

"Now--wrap your legs around my waist and hang onto my hands. I heard this one makes...ooh..." He had to stop and gasp at the amorous lips tickling his audio sensor, "...makes the first contact between Sparks feel _insane_."

.o

Humans had a saying-- "If you love something let it go free. If it doesn't come back, you never had it. If it comes back love it forever."

Prowl's dream mech slipped silently back into his life and spent the last several weeks right under his nose.

They were utterly blind to each other until Jazz's words shed the light that let them see. This reunion was too impossible to be a mere coincidence. Destiny _meant_ for them to travel the rest of their lives as one, and Prowl didn't dare wait to bond. If Jazz was called out on a mission the minute he was repaired, Prowl risked never seeing him again. They were in a war. Anybody could die anytime. Prowl didn't see Jazz's point of view before...then he witnessed the fall that nearly killed him and it suddenly became clear.

He refused to take the chance. As Jazz once said, he'd regret _not_ diving in.

"Jazz..." His fingertips found his lover's and interlocked. Their palms pressed together in a shared prayer. Sitting port to port left him shivering like a leaf in a hurricane. He was amazed he could even speak. This state Jazz worked him into made thinking logically almost impossible. He could hear the electrical activity increasing in his systems. It even rattled his oscillators despite their being offline.

And he _didn't care_...

"It's all right now," Jazz's voice was right in his audio, a creamy column of anticipation that made Prowl want him even more. "They call this 'Taking Flight' because the text says it feels like taking off. Ready?"

Ready? Ready for destiny?

Prowl nodded. "Yes."

Jazz stood up abruptly, lifting their arms above their heads. It _did_ feel like leaving the ground. Prowl fell forward into eternity and love, stopped only by an incredible burning sensation crashing over his processors. He felt Jazz sink back to his knees in one smooth motion--but Prowl's elation was still soaring high above the sky. He wrapped his arms around Jazz's neck, holding on for all he was worth, and told himself he'd never let go.

"Ohhhh _Primus!_" Jazz rocked back, "S-so intense!"

Prowl couldn't make a sound. Feeling another Spark pulse next to his own proved almost too overwhelming for his systems to handle. He clung on as emotions from Jazz's life swirled through his body. His own mental walls were built so high, so guarded, that he found it difficult to relax them even in this moment where he and Jazz were as close as two mechs could be.

"S'okay, Prowl..." Jazz's soothing voice filled his ear. "S'okay."

Every beat of Jazz's Spark hummed through Prowl. Their essences gradually slowed until their rhythms fell into synch.

"Let me in."

"Jazz..."

Jazz stroked his back. A loving, tender gesture. "You've been alone for too long."

Prowl cycled a deep breath and focused on his mental walls.

A brick fell. Then another. Cold drafts and light rays shone through, offering glimpses of _him_.

First came an emotion--the very emotion always ruling the back of his mind--he felt like no matter how talented he was at everything he did, he wasn't good _enough_. Deep down, he feared everyone saw only his mistakes. The perfection he longed for was forever out of reach. Failure shadowed his back like death.

Then he let Jazz feel his terrifying escape run out of the junk yard and into oblivion. Even he didn't know how he avoided being taken in by the authorities. For a brief time, he passed as sighted by adhering a dead mech's optic glass to his face. He built his visor from technology originally intended for detecting underground explosives and installed it himself--a feat that nearly killed him. Joining the Academy, learning Circuit-Su and disciplining himself not to grow too attached to people were the only ways he avoided capture and euthanasia. Then a rumor started around the Academy that a flawed mech was hiding in their midst. People started to suspect him because of his low test scores. So he jumped out his window and used the ninja skills he'd learned to stay in the shadows. With no friends, no one to guide him and nothing to lose, he found his way onto the next ship leaving Cybertron. It just so happened to contain a group of maintenance bots led by Optimus Prime.

He realized what a lonely, guarded life he led. Now its end was mere seconds away, and he almost couldn't believe it.

"Prowl," Jazz moved his lower half and electricity jumped pleasantly across the sensory nub at the base of Prowl's port. Prowl buried his face in Jazz's cheek and let the memory waves wash over him. He was an island sinking into the ocean of his lover--and for once he didn't fear the endless depths.

Jazz's emotions emerged as a series of complex knots that said a lot about why he came onto people so strongly. Prowl cradled each one on his palm, feeling it as his own. Every single lover Jazz had in the past was killed in the war. _Every_ single one. He loved them all--he thought what they made him feel was the true, undying love of a devoted future bond mate--until he met Prowl. Prowl sensed how Jazz looked at him with a different feeling than the others, but he couldn't put words to how or why it wasn't the same. The idea of losing people sent him into fits of terror barely concealed behind a quick smile or a diverting joke. He was haunted by his past occupation and believed it left a stain the strongest cleaning solutions couldn't wash away.

Jazz revealed his days as a blocky-bodied junk yard worker. The sensations and smells of the dead lingered around his edges. When he left the scrap yard, he changed his armor, got a new paint job and altered his entire lifestyle. Metallikato, while sometimes violent, often focused on _non-lethal_ ways of defeating opponents. Killing was always the extreme last resort.

He still sorely missed the three lovers who died fighting against Decepticons. Centuries passed between each mech he dated. It took that long for his courage to try again to come back. His most recent lover--barely a century ago--died in his arms mere seconds before the field medic reached them.

Every death tore holes in Jazz's Spark. He was beginning to lose faith in finding a permanent bond mate.

__

But now you have one, Prowl whispered through their growing bond. _And so do I_.

"Unh..." moaned Jazz. _Prowl_...

__

I will never leave you. I will never die on you.

Jazz's cheek twitched. _Promise?_

I give you my oath, Jazz.

Prowl kissed Jazz's throat and followed his jaw to his plump lips. Their tongues danced like metallic flames. He could feel his Spark swelling and turning slowly inwards, pulsing its way towards something amazing.

__

You don't have to be scared anymore, Prowl. I don't expect ya to be perfect--just be you_...nothin' more, nothin' less._

But the rest of the world...

Doesn't know and will never know it from me. _I love you. I need you._

"Oh, Jazz..._Jazz_..." Prowl rubbed his mouth side to side against the satiny space above Jazz's top lip. "Ohhh!"

"Mm--Prowl...s-so close!" Jazz shuddered and hot air blasted from his intakes. He grinned mischievously, "You look sexy...so sexy."

Prowl snickered. "How w-would--mmh--how would you know?"

"I just do." Warm lips nuzzled his cheek. "Just like I know you're goin' into overload. Go ahead. Don't wait f-for me."

"Jazz..."

Jazz delivered a volley of intense port pulses that rocked Prowl's core. Sparks flew as teeth nipped his throat and fingertips traced the engines on his shoulders, jangling his tenuous grip on the edge of forever.

"Prowl..." that slick voice whispered, "just let go."

"I..." Words failed him, but his Spark did not. _I'm afraid to lose myself._

Ooh, it's a good thing I'm here, ain't it? Jazz replied coyly. His consciousness was music in Prowl's mind._ I'll find you if you get lost. I want to take care of you, but not because you're blind._

Then how do you plan to take care of me?

Same way I know you'll take care of ME...just bein' around when you need me. You want to get mad? Yell at me. You want to cry? Cry on my shoulder. You want a hand to hold? Grab mine. That's all I ask.

Prowl stilled inside. Jazz's words sank into his psyche and the realization washed over him. This wasn't ending his independence, this was ending his loneliness. Walking hand in hand was not the same as being carried. They were equal, like two puzzle pieces meant to occupy one space. The exact second he realized this, the entire wall came down in a titanic crash and everything he was flooded forth in a tsunami of emotion and sensation. It felt so warm, like a boiling ocean of _life_ realizing it was alive for the first time since its creation.

Prowl hung onto the edge just long enough to bid his old life farewell. Then he relaxed and accepted the inevitable plunge. How strange that he did not plummet like a rock, rather, he became a feather gently tumbling on the wind. Pleasant aching pulsed into his neural network until the loving ocean closed over his head, its warmth chasing away his empty loneliness.

He tasted it. He tasted _Jazz_ and suddenly, he felt whole.

__

Whole.

"Oh--oh, Jazz--oh J--oh, Primus, _Jazz!_" Prowl bared his teeth as the orgasm rocked his body and mind. "_JAZZ!_"

"Mm, Prowl..." Jazz did something with his lower body that set Prowl on fire inside. "Ooh...at the edge..."

"_Jazz!_" Prowl's back arched as the rapture traveled through his frame in seemingly slow motion. There was no controlling how he moved or what came out of his mouth. The words he couldn't make himself say before now poured out in the orgasmic roar crashing around his body, "I love you, Jazz...ohh--_I love you!_"

"S-Say that...again." Jazz whispered.

"Unh..." Prowl cried out in his audio, "I _love_ you!"

"I love you, too," Jazz's soft, trembling lips were right against his audio and their movement to speak was a caress. He began to murmur the way he always seemed to each time he reached overload. "Oh, frag...Prowl, you--ahhhh--you feel so--ooh--slagging--unh--**_GOOD!_**" He went suddenly rigid and emitted the most amazing vocalizations to ever grace Prowl's audios. The cave rang with his climax when he joined Prowl under their newborn sea.

Their lips met for the first time as bond mates. Then they cried out together, their hands feeling each others' faces clench while their rising voices created an echoing harmony in the acoustically perfect cavern that was ugly on the eyes, but beautiful to the ears. Their old selves shattered under the strain. Each piece fell away, stretched and reconfigured into something new and unscathed.

At the height of their shared orgasm, Jazz reached through the bond and let Prowl glimpse something he never thought he'd experience. Something that penetrated the nothingness of his sightless world.

__

Light...


	5. Chapter 5

Jazz regained awareness to the floor under his back and wiry lips nuzzling his throat. He smelled steam, oil and hot metal rapidly cooling. The last thing he remembered was a mind-blowing overload. Was the heat he felt coming from himself or Prowl's body resting across his chest?

Fingers touched his lips. He kissed them. Their owner spoke, "Jazz?"

"Hey..." Jazz managed to smile. He was still tingling, and he'd never forget the feel of Prowl stiffening and moaning directly in his audio input sensor. "How was it?"

Prowl's lips outlined his cheekbone. "Wonderful, Jazz. _Wonderful_." And a ripple of naked happiness jumped between their Sparks like cloud to cloud lightning. _I can feel you..._

...good. Then you know you don't have to walk this life alone anymore. 'Cause I'll always be right here.

And that is a safe feeling.

Something crackled. Jazz's arms were suddenly empty. He felt Prowl clasp his hands and help him up. The abrupt change in body positioning without a visual reference sent his equilibrium chips scrambling for balance. Reality see-sawed and he wobbled with it.

"Easy, Jazz. Pay attention to your feet and your body will respond."

"I didn't have this trouble the first time I stood up." Jazz rubbed his head. He heard the click of Prowl putting his visor back on. His own shattered optics sent shooting pains through his forehead and his knees dully reminded him of their presence. Deciding to ignore them, he leaned over and caught Prowl in a static-filled lip-lock.

"Mm. You were also ankle deep in water, which gave you more of a horizontal reference point." Prowl's amusement tinkled through their newborn bond. He felt so much that his voice and face didn't reflect. It was almost like seeing him broken into facets instead of a single, smooth surface.

"Man! It's hard to believe how much changes when you lose your sight." Jazz held on when Prowl stepped off the tracks and into what felt like a void.

"Watch your head."

Jazz ducked when Prowl's elbow dropped. They had to walk several feet while doubled over, but Prowl kept talking anyway and the narrow passageway transformed his voice into thunder.

"I would be at the same disadvantage if I suddenly gained sight."

"Why?"

"Everything I know is by touch, sound, smell or taste. I wouldn't know how to interpret visual information. I..." Prowl paused, "...I didn't know you were showing me light until you named it." He straightened. "What kind of light was that?"

Jazz stood up as well. "That was the sun, Prowl."

"Ah. It was beautiful...but I don't feel like I'm missing anything by not seeing it."

Jazz frowned until he saw Prowl's point--and realized that, even if it was offered to him, he wouldn't want eyesight. It'd thrust him into a frightening world of colors, lights, movement and a million other visual things Jazz took for granted. Besides, experiencing the world as Prowl did let him realize there were so many beautiful things he _didn't_ know existed _because_ he was always intent on the input from his optics. Things like the sounds, sensations and smells of his lover crying out in ecstasy. This cavern made Prowl's hollow voice resonate like music, and every word he said literally rang.

The world was still a beautiful place. Not seeing it didn't mean it disappeared, it just presented itself in an entirely new manner.

Like the roar of rushing water...

"I hear it again. Hey, I thought we were closer than this!"

Prowl chuckled, "The narrow tunnel was acting like an amplifier. It had me fooled as well."

They continued onward. Something slimy squelched under Jazz's left foot.

"Guano," Prowl said.

"What's that? And what's that squeaky noise overhead?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Um...it's not going to eat me, is it?"

"No." Prowl's smile showed in his voice, "Bats. They are nocturnal mammals and won't harm us. Though--"

Jazz stepped in another squishy puddle.

"--they leave a lot of feces. Sari calls it 'poop.'"

"Ew. Poop ain't dangerous, is it?"

"No, just unpleasant on the olfactory sensors."

Jazz squinted behind the flux, "I don't smell anything."

"Wait for it," Prowl said, his stride never breaking.

An odious stench assaulted Jazz's sensors. Waste sludge smelled better than this!

"Augh! Nasty!" Jazz let go of Prowl's arm and danced around, trying to shake the slimy goop off his heel.

"Catch up when you're ready. And a word of advice? Watch your head." Prowl snickered and passed into the next cavern. His laughter lingered around the rough walls before the rushing water drowned it out.

It wasn't until Prowl fell silent that Jazz realized his means of transportation went on without him. He had nothing to guide him but the squeaking bats overhead and the sound of water roaring at his left. Standing with nothing in arm's reach turned the innocent cavern into an endless void full of imagined holes ready to swallow him whole.

Jazz knew he could cry out for help. A word, and Prowl would be at his side again, leading him. But that meant giving up before he started.

He held both hands out--the left at waist level and the right near his forehead--to protect himself from obstacles. Then, orienting himself towards the hissing water, he shuffled forward at a snail's pace. It terrified him and his feet kept catching on small stones, but he didn't stop moving.

Jazz counted ten steps before something about the air flow suddenly changed. He stopped and stretched his right arm forward. His fingertips encountered the moist, spiky coolness of a stalactite. He grinned as he slipped around it and heard a second obstacle waiting on his left. Another stalactite, this one longer than the first. He heard swishing sounds when he walked between them.

So _these_ were the sound shadows Prowl mentioned! How queer, he _felt_ how they altered the ambient air circulation in the surrounding area.

__

I got it now, Jazz thought. _My audios are eyes_.

His confidence restored, Jazz continued on and easily dodged the nose and knee traps looming in his path. Did Prowl feel this free when he learned to interpret his visor and walked boldly in the daylight without fear of tripping?

A rock wall stopped Jazz in his tracks. Its rough surface was irregular like rolling hills that cracked down the middle. He leaned forward and sniffed--the fissures lacked the slimy scum of algae. That meant no place for sunlight to peek into the cavern. He moved left, trailing towards the chaotic, roaring water. Suddenly, his fingertips encountered moist air and a sharp curve. He swung his arm around it--aha, an opening! Something stood in the passageway. Jazz's probing hand located the blockage. When did rocks take the shape of Prowl's small, attractive aft?

He groped it. "Boo!"

"Hey!" Prowl's hand grasped reflexively at his forearm. If he was startled, it didn't show for long. "You made it." His voice sweetened into a smile, "Good job, Jazz."

Jazz kissed Prowl's hand. "I learned from the best."

"Hmph. Flatterer."

They laughed together, shaking off the tension as they walked slowly through one last rocky archway. All the roaring, rushing and burbling noises became crystal clear.

Jazz turned his head left to right. He heard and smelled the presence of an underground waterfall. The hissing cacophony echoed off the rock walls and drowned his sense of direction. Misty spray beaded on his armor until condensation trickled down his body. He was still sensitive from earlier, and each droplet felt like a caress.

"Sounds like the waterfall's pretty high up."

"It's the echo. We're about level with where the water is emerging. It's throwing up a lot of mist." Prowl replied, "Jazz, I'm a little concerned about letting you get wet again--and if you fall--"

"Prowl, I ain't gonna sit here on my aft and let you take all the action. It's my fault we're in this mess. I'd hate myself if you got hurt because of me. If we're gonna fall, let's fall together, okay?"

"Then I...wait!" The servos in Prowl's arm stiffened, "Do you sense that?"

"I--" Jazz turned his head and a warm, electrical pulse danced through his Spark. It had a distinctive signature--the harmonic throb of life itself. "Is that the shard?"

"It's behind the waterfall! It must have been swept along until it came to rest in here."

Jazz faced Prowl's voice. "But that water's fallin' pretty hard."

"I think we can reach it. Come on!"

"What--" Jazz didn't get to finish because Prowl jolted forward like a shot. The waterfall's roar grew closer. So close he felt stray droplets splash over his face and chest. It was _cold_ and smelled fresh. "Prowl, can your oscillators see the shard?"

"Let me try it." A pause. "Yes, it's faint, but I can see it. It's a good-sized piece. We must work together to reach it. Here--this is the edge. I'll need you to lower me, the wall wears smooth towards the bottom."

Jazz stood there, flummoxed. "How in the Pit can you tell?"

"The water isn't splashing, it's flowing straight out of the waterfall and goes around a bend. The river is about thirty feet down. Now," Prowl knelt and placed Jazz's hand on the moist, jagged edge of what seemed like a bottomless abyss. "Swing yourself over and use your feet to find footholds. Don't give it your weight until you're sure it'll hold."

All that confidence Jazz felt earlier trickled away with the rushing river. Finding his way through a cavern was one thing. But climbing around above water to which he didn't know the depth? Reaching blindly for handholds and footholds that may not be there? He wasn't ready!

"I don't like this..."

"It's the only way," Prowl said gently. "What if I got in position and used my voice to guide you?"

That suggestion only gave Jazz visions of himself slipping and knocking Prowl down as he fell. He shook it off. They were working as a team--if he refused, they both failed this mission. He'd potentially lose his Elite Guard membership. Cowardice was never tolerated amidst such highly powerful and visible ranks. Of course, losing his rank was nothing to what Prowl could lose.

And he couldn't keep his fear out of their bond. He felt Prowl touch his hand.

"You can do this, Jazz. I wouldn't suggest this if I thought it was beyond your ability."

Prowl believed in him. He was still reeling from his injury and Prowl _believed_ in him.

"Okay. I'll do it."

Rocks crackled as Prowl swung himself over. Jazz startled when he felt warm lips press against his.

"For luck."

Jazz grinned, "See ya on the flip side, sexy."

Prowl blew an amused snort. Clinks and clanks signaled his descent. Jazz nervously chewed his bottom lip. If Prowl fell, would he be heard over the noise of the waterfall? Over a minute passed and nothing.

"Jazz!" Prowl's voice came from below and to the far right. How'd he get way over _there_?

Relief flooded him. "Still here."

"Good! I'm in position." Prowl had to shout over the waterfall's constant roar. "There is a large crack about two body lengths below you. Find it and you can shimmy sideways to me. Move slowly, it's slippery!"

"Okay. I'm on my way down." Jazz swallowed his fear and eased himself over the jagged edge. Wet rock loomed inches from his nose. He set his teeth and felt for the first handhold. There were many, he realized--they jutted out like slick spikes. He turned his head in an instinctive attempt to look around. He let his left leg drop, swinging it until another outcrop caught his toe.

"Jazz?"

"I'm--I'm okay." Jazz's fuel pump throbbed like a jackhammer. He pressed his cheek to the wet rock wall. For a moment he wasn't sure if the rumble he heard was the waterfall or energon rushing through his audio relays. He muttered a thousand prayers to Primus and lowered himself to the next set of hand-holds. Solid ground greeted his soles. "I think I found the crack. It's solid."

"Right. Now you have to drop and catch yourself."

__

Slag me, Jazz sighed. But he did it before he could think too much. For a split second he gave himself to oblivion. Then the solid crack greeted his fingers and he clung on with all his might. Cool air from the falling water fanned his wet back. How could such a seemingly innocent liquid sound so powerful?

"You made it!" Prowl cried, and Jazz felt the other mech's hand clasp one of his own. "Now come towards me and lower me down."

"Okay...let me get closer." Jazz shimmied sideways until their hips bumped. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"This is hardly the time to ask such a question," said Prowl. "Give me your left hand. I'm going to drop, so be ready...now!"

Jazz tightened his grip and braced his feet on the wall. Utilizing his training in balance and strength, he adjusted himself to hang almost parallel to the crack. Prowl's grasp on him did not waver.

"I can't reach it!" Prowl snarled, "I need another foot!"

"I can't get you any lower!" Jazz yelled back. "We need another method!"

Prowl grudgingly swung himself back up to the crack. Frustration bled through the bond. Jazz heard the grinding sounds of armor against rock. Prowl's feet pinged and he swore his ears detected something.

"Kick the rock again."

Prowl did so without question. He picked up on Jazz's lead immediately. "There's an echo. Faint, but..." His weight shifted. Jazz's audios picked up the swish of a throwing disk flying and the clang of it hitting something solid. Prowl's frustration became a bubbling triumph. "Jazz, I do believe you found a ledge behind the waterfall. All the noise makes it hard to guess--it may position us right above the shard."

And before Jazz said anything, Prowl kicked off the rock wall, back flipped and Jazz cringed in anticipation of a splash. The waterfall seemed to swallow the world--he didn't hear anything and wondered if Prowl somehow fell, or--

"Jazz!" Prowl called from at least ten feet down. "Kick off and jump to my voice!"

"Have you lost your motherboards?"

"Trust me!"

__

Primus, just don't let me fall.

He swung sideways towards the point from which Prowl jumped and pressed his feet against the wall. His arms trembled. There didn't seem to be enough air for his intake system. He trusted Prowl, but in moments like this he had trouble trusting himself. This would be so much easier if he'd seen this cave before and could trace it from a visual memory. Did leaping into the unknown ever scare Prowl this bad?

"I'm gonna do it. Stand back so I don't land on you."

"Just jump to my voice. Don't worry about me!"

"How wide is the ledge?"

"Six feet. It's triangular. Jump, Jazz!"

Steeling himself, Jazz fired the hydraulics in his legs and gave himself to the void. He flipped once, twice...the waterfall's roar was at his back...and then solid ground crashed into his feet. The impact sent blazing needles through his knee joints. He crumpled to sit on his aft, shaking, and Prowl's hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" asked Prowl. Even shouting it was hard to hear him over the falls.

"Y-yeah. I did it..." Jazz barely managed a smile despite the ache in his legs. "I think I messed up my knees when I landed."

"I smell the hydraulic fluid." Prowl's fingertips probed Jazz's knee joints, each touch making him wince. "You probably have a leak. Don't worry--we'll find a way out soon. But first, hang from this ledge and lower me down. I need to get that shard."

"Right." Jazz nodded. He let the pain keep his mind focused on their mission. Accomplishing this meant a lot to Prowl. Failure wasn't an option. He scooted back until he hung off the very tip of the ledge. Behind him, the waterfall flowed a mere foot from his back. He told himself not to fear it, that it probably didn't look as big and menacing as it sounded. "Gimme your hand."

Prowl was beside him. Jazz felt a gentle, narrow hand slide into his grasp. He set his teeth and let his arm drop, grunting as he struggled against Prowl's weight.

"Almost there!" Prowl called up. His legs kicked and Jazz tightened his grasp on the rocky outcropping. "Can you get me down one more inch?"

Jazz grimaced at an annoying trickle of water dripping like missiles on his face. He leaned back as far as he dared, "Stop swinging, we'll fall!"

"Got it! Swing me up!"

Something crackled. Jazz felt his fingers slip. No, not his fingers, the rocks!

Jazz's reality tunneled around the sound of stone giving way. Time dilated to a crawl. There was just him hanging in the air, weightless, lost between realizing what had happened and what was about to happen. His first instinct was to flail his arm for a handhold, but he didn't dare let go of Prowl's hand. Then, irrationally, he started to imagine the abyss below as an endless black hole, a grinder full of gnashing blades and a compactor ready to crush him flat. Finally, when he'd exhausted his imagination there was just one wish that Prowl would somehow survive and escape.

And then they were falling--Jazz in disbelief with pieces of rock still in his grasp and Prowl's voice yelling at him. He heard one loud splash a split second before he created his own. A world of cold, gurgling and tickling bubbles surrounded him so fast he almost didn't feel the pain of water entering his injuries. It washed the flux right out of his eye sockets. Warnings blared in his head. He lost all sense of up or down, his hands groping for purchase on something, anything. Arms wrapped around his waist and tugged. The dull roar disappeared with a pop and reality coalesced once more.

"Sh-shard..." Jazz choked through the agony in his head.

"I have it." Prowl said gently.

Jazz dimly realized Prowl was clinging to a rock somewhere in the bend of the underground river and using his body to block the raging water. It didn't do much good, but Jazz couldn't bring himself to say so.

"My oscillators are picking up daylight. This river goes outside, but we have to go underwater--"

"Let's do it. I think I can make it."

Fingers probed his face. "The flux..."

"Prowl, c'mon. I know what my systems can handle."

He heard Prowl sigh heavily. The fingertips moved to stroke his cheek. Jazz clasped them and laid his chin on Prowl's shoulder. He let his relief at knowing Prowl survived the fall seep like oil into their bond.

"I'll be okay. Limping, but okay. I promise."

Prowl snorted. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Thanks, you look sexy, too."

And if Prowl had eyes, Jazz was sure he would've rolled them.

"I love you." Jazz added in a sing-song tone.

"I know." Prowl's voice was light, revealing his facial expression.

Jazz smiled back, kissed him and turned his back to the current. "Let's get going before I lose the use of my legs."

"Right," Prowl answered softly. "Just hold onto me in case you short out. I don't know how long we have to remain underwater--the surface is too chaotic to see anything other than the daylight seeping in."

No problem there. Jazz rather liked the excuse for wrapping his arms around Prowl. He brushed his lips against the space where Prowl's throat and jaw met. Then, once again, the world dissolved to a murmuring swirl of bubbles and gurgling. Pain shot lasers into his shattered optics and knee joints. There was no blocking it out. Feedback howled like demons through his audios. Imaginary acid splattered his neural network. He screamed a stream of bubbles while the world faded first into static, then to silence.

A nanosecond later, he looked up and saw in shades of gray. His body felt heavy, armored...he was in the junkyard. Not only that, he realized the darkness around him had morphed into the walls of the same compactor he used to operate. The sides were caked in oil, mech fluid and despair.

They began to close in without a sound.

Jazz cried out in terror as death came closer. He twisted to the side, grasping the walls and pushing ineffectively. Searing agony shot through his knees. There was no way he'd hold these walls off on his own.

Except he wasn't alone.

Someone's legs offered their strength right before his own failed. He looked over his shoulder in time to glimpse a smiling, but eyeless white visage shimmering dully in the misty halogen junkyard lamps.

"Get on my back."

Jazz did so without question. Every movement was agony, but somehow the smaller mech shouldered his weight. He let his optics lose focus while his blind companion scaled the slanted side of the compactor walls and emerged into silent oblivion.


	6. Chapter 6

If someone asked Prowl how he managed to drag Jazz all the way up the gorge, he doubted he'd find the answer. Mechs with his build weren't meant to carry someone who weighed as much as Jazz. Seeing Jazz's condition caused a power surge in all his systems. He _had_ to get him away from the water. The strain ripped the wires in his shoulders and elbows loose and ruptured a few minor energon lines in his joints. Small bleeds compared to the damage Jazz sustained.

It was late afternoon and warm sunlight kissed Prowl's left cheek. He paused at the top of the slope and listened for the woodpecker. When it finally announced its presence, he knew he was several hundred yards north of camp. He bent forward to ensure Jazz remained secure on his back and forced his legs into motion. Water tinged in the oily smell of hydraulic fluid poured through cracks in the injured bot's broken knees. Primus, did he absorb half the river?

Finally, exhausted and sick of the incessant warning beeps in his joint sensors, Prowl laid Jazz across one of the portable berths and collapsed across his chest.

"Jazz..." Prowl panted, "Can you hear me?"

No response. The water likely shorted his sensory circuits.

He positioned Jazz facedown with his head dangling off one side. Water trickled audibly from his shattered optics and mouth. The oily smell wafting off Jazz's legs told Prowl he wouldn't be walking or regaining consciousness until Ratchet or Sari's key performed the necessary repairs.

The worst was over. Prowl forced himself to calm down. The last thing he needed was distress in his voice when he hailed the other Autobots.

Optimus kept his com link on alert at all times whenever one or more of his own team left the warehouse. For once Prowl was glad for that.

"Optimus, this is Prowl."

"Optimus here. Is everything okay?"

"I have the shard." Prowl said. "Jazz is severely injured and requires treatment as soon as possible."

"Injuries?" Optimus sounded suddenly worried. "What happened?"

"We ran into some terrain issues while locating the shard."

"Okay. I'm picking up your coordinates. Ratchet and I will be there soon. Sari is with Bulkhead and Bumblebee--I'll contact them on the way. What is your condition?"

"Worry about Jazz, first!" Prowl snapped, his own tone surprising him.

"What the frag happened?" Ratchet cut in.

Prowl explained everything from the mine to finding the shard, though he purposely left out anything to do with their bonding experience. By the time he finished he heard his comrades' sirens in the distance.

And Ratchet blasted, "**_YOU LET JAZZ LEAP AROUND BLIND?_**"

"Ratchet!" Optimus barked, "Easy."

"Easy? **_EASY?_** Do you realize how useless a flawed mech is when it comes to fighting? Why do you think they get scrapped off the assembly line? They're only good for parts! He's lucky he wasn't assembled that way!"

Prowl muted his com so Ratchet wouldn't hear him growl. The anguish and pain he thought he left behind curled like suffocating smoke in the back of his mind. Ratchet--the medic he should trust--just proved where he stood regarding the flawed. It didn't matter how good a medic he was...Prowl knew how Ratchet would treat him if his blindness ever became known.

This knowledge hurt, but he shoved it aside. He had another matter to worry about and its name was Jazz.

"Hold on, Jazz," Prowl rubbed his hands and sent his love through their bond. It was getting harder and harder to sense Jazz's Spark. Why was he fading? "They're almost here."

The sirens stopped.

Prowl turned his visor on just in time for it to pick up Optimus' red and blue armor at the edge of camp. Ratchet's red and white appeared an instant later, and Prowl couldn't avoid a bitter shiver when the medic rushed over. He barely concealed his surprise at Ratchet's haste--Jazz was bleeding hydraulic fluid _everywhere_. All that dripping he assumed to be water was vital fluid! The pine trees masked its scent! If he'd turned on his oscillators sooner, if he'd paid more attention, if--

"Move! I need to clamp those lines!" Ratchet unceremoniously flipped Jazz onto his back and metal tools clanked against the berth. "Why the frag did you let him bleed out this long?"

A void opened in Prowl's Spark. His mouth worked soundlessly until he finally found his monologue. "I--"

Ratchet used his larger size to push Prowl aside. His feet splashed in the liquid flowing out of Jazz's legs. "Nevermind! Just back off!"

Shaking, Prowl knelt at the head of the berth. The sudden wrenching of his internals doubled him over. He pressed his cheek to Jazz's brow and clenched his teeth so he wouldn't show his self-anguish. _Forgive me...I should have known. I should have paid closer attention. Oh, Jazz_...

"How is he?" Optimus asked from Prowl's right.

"He's a mess! Look at this! It's taking up all my clamps!" grumbled the medic. Tools clicked and rattled. "There. He's stable. Good thing we've got that key on our side. I can fix the legs up good as new, but I don't have the materials for new optics."

"Do what you can," Optimus replied, his tone authoritative and business-like. His facial expression probably showed the concern not fully present in his voice.

Self-loathing continued its slimy path through Prowl's mind. He bent over until his visor detected nothing but Jazz's handsome face. His lips were parted. Prowl wanted to kiss them, but couldn't make himself do it with Ratchet and Prime right there.

A hand materialized on his shoulder.

"Prowl," Optimus said, "Let's take a walk."

"N-no..."

"Jazz is going to be--"

"Everyone thought I was stable when I suffered a grievous injury from that nanobot-infested cockroach."

"Your chest was also ripped wide open. Jazz will be okay." Optimus' voice remained gentle. "Let's let Ratchet work."

Prowl sighed and forced his body to stand. He followed Prime more by sound than anything, occasionally putting a hand up to keep tree branches out of his face. They walked until Prowl couldn't hear Ratchet muttering curses anymore.

"Where is the hole Jazz fell into?"

"Oh, it's on the slope approximately two hundred yards north of where we camped."

"I see..."

"He was curious," Prowl added.

"And why didn't you radio me to come pull him out?" Optimus' tone remained calm, not at all reprimanding.

"The fall jammed his sensory circuits. I wanted to assess his injuries--"

"Next time, Prowl, radio for help. It's always there."

Prowl hung his head, growling under his breath.

Rocks shifted when Optimus moved closer to the gorge. He stood at the edge of the slope, though Prowl couldn't tell he was facing away until he spoke, "I'm sorry your trip didn't go as planned. I know you were looking forward to it."

Why would he apologize for that?

"It...had its good points," Prowl replied. More to assure himself than his commander. Unbidden, memories of the incredible bonding experience surfaced and caressed his consciousness. The reality of who Jazz was...sounds they made while overloading...how their bodies felt while pressed so tightly together...his smooth armor...Prowl bit his lip and touched his own chest. Faint scratches were the only sign of what took place.

"I see..." Optimus turned around. He was smiling and his voice carried a knowing tone. "I'm glad for you."

__

Why in Primus' name does he have to be so perceptive in these matters?

"Um...thank you." Prowl reeled for an excuse to change the subject. Anything to stop the pit of his fuel tanks from twisting in on themselves. "Oh! That reminds me..." He produced the AllSpark shard, which was just large enough to fill his entire palm. "Here."

Optimus' hand grasped the shard and moved away.

A fresh round of Ratchet's cursing made Prowl jump. He turned towards it, ready to bolt back to Jazz's side. A firm hand clamped his shoulder, halting him.

"Easy there...Jazz is going to be--"

"It's not that!" Prowl snapped. His lips curled in a snarl to match the heat brewing around his Spark. He had to snarl--otherwise he'd cry and the lack of tears would doom him. "I...didn't realize how badly he was losing fluids. He may have died because I wasn't vigilant enough!"

"He's being helped. Sari's key will have Jazz up and seeing again in no time." He turned away, balancing the shard on his large, blue palm. "Though, it's kind of fascinating. A blind mech...heh, a long time ago there was a rumor that a blind mech snuck into the Academy right around the time I washed out. Would've been interesting to meet him. I think anybody that can work around that severe a limitation should be allowed to live as long as he wanted."

Jerking his head up, Prowl stared at him as if he grew three heads. "Sir?"

Optimus shrugged his shoulders, "Well, obviously he was smart enough to pass the entrance exam--"

__

Barely, Prowl added silently. Every word Prime said tied his innards into painful knots. Despite this, he let not a hint of conflict show on his face. He wished Optimus would stop talking!

"--and mingle enough to be invisible until the rumor got out. Then I heard he ran. Where do you think somebody like that would go, Prowl?"

"I don't know," he answered quickly, before any suspicion could lay on his shoulders. "Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight." Meanwhile, inwardly, he begged, _Please, in the name of everything I call holy, don't let him be so perceptive he suspects. Please_...

Optimus toed the rotting remains of a fallen log. "Well, whoever he is, I certainly admire his determination and adaptability."

"I...would do the same. But I also would not expect him to come forward. Too much risk."

"I agree." Prime pushed the log over the slope and it banged noisily on something when it fell. "And I think I'd somehow forget to contact the authorities if I ever encountered him. How about you?"

"The same." Prowl relaxed and barely resisted a smile. If only Optimus knew.

Somewhere behind him, the woodpecker rapped on its tree. The hollow sound reminded him of the wind chimes Jazz gave as a gift.

__

Prowl... Jazz's voice reached through the bond.

Prowl's mouth dropped. _Jazz?_ He bolted away from Prime and slid to a stop next to a grousing Ratchet.

"Stop moving your legs! Are you trying to make 'em fall off? Oh...hey Prowl. Jazz, he's here, now settle down!"

"Jazz," Prowl butted into the medic's ranting, "I'm right here. Please, lie still. You aren't well yet."

"Where am I?"

The woodpecker rattled less than ten feet away, somewhere on the left.

"Oh...nevermind. I know."

"You remember," Prowl smiled at him. He decided to talk through their bond, hoping to reduce the strain on Jazz's body. _Don't the trees smell beautiful?_

Mmm...you smell better.

He was cracking jokes. Prowl took that as a good sign--at least he knew Jazz's spirits were up despite his injuries.

__

Primus, Jazz...you have a one-track mind.

Jazz's hand cupped his cheek. His full lips curved in a small smile, _It's 'cause you're irresistible. So, who all is here? Just you and Ratchet?_

Optimus is here, too.

Sweet...

Jazz, I'm sorry.

Why? There's nothing to be sorry ab--

I didn't turn my oscillators on right away. You were bleeding hydraulic fluid and I thought it was water. You nearly died and it would have been my fault.

Well, I'm not dyin' am I?

Prowl didn't reply because the emotions bubbling in his chest blotted out everything else. He felt Jazz's thumb stroke his bottom lip.

__

I don't blame ya for anything, Prowl. You did what you had to. I'm gonna be okay. You really think I'd skip outta this life after I hooked up with the hottest mech I ever laid optics on?

It was such a typical Jazz statement that the weight in Prowl's chest became a sugary-sweet euphoria. He heard himself laughing instead of sobbing. Crying and laughing at the same time--what a strange sensation!

__

Now that's a sound I hope to hear a lot more. Jazz smiled. Then the hand on Prowl's cheek relaxed. Prowl caught it before it crashed back onto the berth.

"Jazz?" _Jazz? Jazz!_ He looked up, "Ratchet! What happened?"

"Will you relax?" Ratchet slowly gathered his tools and placed them into their proper compartments. "He has intermittent power in his main circuitry. He'll be in and out until Sari gets here with her key."

Optimus' footsteps trudged back into the campsite. Prowl turned his head when he sensed Prime picking up the containers of rust sticks and flux. He'd nearly forgotten about those. Letting them go to waste would've been a sad deal--they were good quality and tasted expensive.

"Jazz is stable?"

"He's as patched as I can get him," Ratchet remarked, "Can't do any more until Sari gets here."

Optimus and Ratchet moved away to continue their conversation. Neither seemed aware that Prowl could still hear their voices, and Prowl didn't bother telling them otherwise. Observing was one of the many talents he'd acquired in his ninja training. He learned a lot about people just by listening to their conversations.

"They bonded." Ratchet said. His voice carried a smile, "Classic scratches in the chest armor. Gives 'em away every time."

"Think they're a good match?"

"Heh! Opposites attract, don't they?"

Optimus' reply was silent, perhaps a nod or a shrug.

Ratchet went on, "He's the last one I ever expected to find somebody. Who knows? Maybe he'll open up some. Poor kid, he seems to have a lot on his mind all the time. I used to think it was some ninja thing. But there's Jazz is loud and talkative..."

"...and doesn't seem to mind that Prowl just listens."

"Mmhmm."

Prowl shut them out after that. He refocused on the weight of Jazz's hand resting in his own. In a short while, Jazz's eyesight would be restored. Prowl's memory drifted unbidden to the light he beheld during intercourse. A glimpse...it'd been a glimpse into the world of color and illumination Jazz lived in, and it took place while Jazz himself couldn't see a thing. What a remarkable twist of fate. They both tasted each other's worlds at the exact same time.

Light...it was so beautiful. If Jazz's love was light, it had to be even brighter than the sun. Prowl tilted his head towards the sun's warmth and smiled. Ancient Circuit-Su texts had a saying--_"The truest love glows brighter, hotter and longer than any star. But, like the wind, it is only felt and heard, never seen."_--and now he firmly believed it.

Prowl harbored no envy towards Jazz's soon-to-be-restored eyesight. Jazz didn't belong in the blind world any more than Prowl belonged amongst the sighted. In some ways, he liked to think Jazz did all the seeing he himself couldn't do.

"Finally!" Ratchet's voice broke the quiet. "Heads up, Prowl, the others are coming."

.o

Warmth roused Jazz back to consciousness. His optics came online suddenly, startling him. The first thing he saw was Prowl's concerned visage leaning down.

"Jazz?" Prowl whispered, "Can you see?"

Jazz couldn't imagine waking up to anything more gorgeous than that face. He grinned and thumped Prowl's pouty bottom lip, "You're a sight for sore eyes."

As was the brilliant red, yellow and purple sunset reflected in his visor. For one split second Jazz felt a little bad knowing such an amazing view stopped on that surface, but it disappeared the moment Prowl smiled at him. Beauty didn't vanish because one's vision failed--he knew that now. He lifted his head, his lips drawing closer to Prowl's--

--and then something yellow leaned over between them, grinning happily.

"Hey, Jazz!" Bumblebee held up three fingers, "How many digits?"

Prowl's annoyed sneer made Jazz break into laughter. "Three, last time I checked." He chortled and shifted his gaze to Sari, who still sat on her knees on his chest. "Thanks a lot. I feel great."

The redhead smiled sweetly, "You're welcome!"

He helped her reach Prowl's chest so she could repair him with her key. Then he set her down near Bumblebee. His gaze wandered over the various shapes, sizes and colors of the surrounding Autobots. In some ways he'd already forgotten the hours he spent without his sight, yet at the same time seeing so many colors at once left him dazzled.

"Hey, Jazz, you like music don'tcha?" Sari asked. She leaned casually on his foot, looking up with her huge eyes, "Don'tcha?"

"Yeah," he didn't disguise his amusement.

"Cool! Bulkhead, Bumblebee and me got a really cool karaoke machine. Maybe you can come by and play with it sometime."

He stared, puzzled. "Why would you wanna carry an oak?"

Laughter erupted.

Bulkhead leaned over, "It's a singing game. Sari's good at it. We found one with some really old music on it."

"Antique," Bumblebee added, grinning.

"Really? Solid!" Jazz snapped his fingers and gazed at Prowl, who now stood away from the others. He appeared to be watching the sun dip under the horizon. Oh, Primus, he was gorgeous standing there in the gloaming. Moments like these made him glad he to have functioning optics and he swore he'd never take them for granted again.

"Guys, c'mon! It's getting cold out here."

"Right. We probably should head out. Keeping the shard out in the open is asking for trouble." Optimus frowned at the crystal in his hand. He transformed, stashing it somewhere in his cab as he assumed the form of a fire truck.

"You go on ahead. I'll catch up."

"You sure?" Bulkhead asked while using his massive foot to grind out the last embers of the campfire. The others were already folding themselves into vehicle mode and zooming away.

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'm a-okay now." Jazz grinned at him. He felt a little sore and craved a healthy dose of motor oil, but other than that he swore he could jump to the moon.

The others were almost out of view. Dust hung in the air from tires kicking up soil.

"Uh...sure. See you back at the base." Smiling, Bulkhead lifted his three-fingered hand in a wave and scrambled into vehicle form to catch up with his friends.

Jazz chuckled at Bulkhead's departure. They were an amusing bunch to say the least. He joined Prowl under the largest pine tree in their camp and laid a light hand on his back. "Hey."

Prowl silently stopped leaning on the tree and transferred his weight to Jazz's side. His facial expression did not change, he didn't say a word...but he didn't have to. The gesture said it all. Jazz understood Prowl's desire for stillness and silence. He closed his mouth and wrapped his arms around Prowl's waist from behind, his chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

The horizon turned deeper shades of red, purple and orange that faded slowly to dark blue. Jazz's awe at it transferred through their bond. Prowl grasped his hand and lightly squeezed it. Then he tilted his head back and beamed.

"I felt how beautiful it was through you," Prowl sounded awed. "Let's watch every sunset together from now on. No matter where we are, even if we aren't together at the time, let's watch it."

A soft smile touched Jazz's full lips. It was such a "Prowl" thing that made him love him even more. He kissed Prowl's forehead and whispered against it, "I'll watch, you feel. Sweet, man. It'll be our tradition."

"Good. Now...oh!" Prowl jolted, "I better return those library books I borrowed."

Jazz's Spark flip-flopped in its chamber at the way Prowl's mouth formed such a tiny, perfect "o" shape. "Sure. They'll probably be so crazy about that karaoke thing that none of 'em will see ya sneakin' out."

Prowl nodded and his golden chevron shimmered in the rising moon. Was it the moon or the love Jazz felt that made him seem so _perfect_? Jazz didn't have time to ponder--Prowl transformed and roared down the road.

Jazz silently collapsed the portable berths so he could pick them up later. He glanced once more at the moon before transforming and taking off for the warehouse.

Less than half an hour later, amidst the crunch and slosh of mechs chomping on rust sticks and flux, Jazz understood why Prowl was conveniently missing. He arrived to discover the karaoke machine already in use. Before he found a suitable excuse to join Prowl, Bulkhead placed a delicious oil shake in his hands and asked him to watch the show.

How could he refuse?

He kind of wished he did.

Bulkhead and Bumblebee weren't the best of singers. They knew all the words to the songs...but neither could carry a tune in a bucket. They looked like they were having so much fun singing a song about "daring to be stupid" that Jazz couldn't avoid snickering.

Sari fared much better. The peppy song she sang--it had an odd chorus line that stated "Oops, I did it again..." --made Jazz think about times he'd rather not remember. He still applauded her when she finished. It just wouldn't be fair to rain on her fun with millennia-old baggage.

Optimus tried. He really did. He didn't know _any_ songs, and spent more time reading the screen and questioning the location of this "Heartbreak Hotel" than actually singing. At least he could sort of carry a tune, and he laughed at himself at the end. Poor Optimus--Jazz was glad Sentinel didn't see that. Though, come to think of it, Jazz could imagine Sentinel making a worse fool of himself by trying to make up his own lyrics.

Ratchet refused to sing at all.

Fortunately for Jazz, the machinery did have a few songs he'd heard before. One jumped out at him, a song sung by an artist whose long last name appeared impossible to pronounce. He kept his choice to himself because he was saving it for Prowl.

Jazz got up to refill his oil shake. Through the corner of his eye he spotted a huge, industrial-sized box of strange nails. The text labeled them as "Escutcheon pins." They were like nails, but had domed heads. His lips curved in a half-smile. Ooh, he knew what he could do with those. He excused himself to "go check on Prowl" and snuck off with the box.

And proceeded to write Braille messages _all over_ Prowl's quarters.

"Jazz? You in here?"

"Eh?" Jazz peeked over his shoulder.

Bumblebee stuck his head in the door, looked around and clicked his glossa. "You realize he's gonna be mad when he jumps down from that tree and sees you messed up his walls, right? Should I take the pictures while you run?"

"Shh!" Jazz made a face and chuckled. "Prowl won't be mad. I'm decoratin' is all. It's...uh...a ninja thing. You wouldn't get it."

"Tch. You ninjas are weird!"

Jazz finished up and chased Bumblebee back into the main room.

As always Prowl had impeccable timing. Jazz sensed his stealthy return through their bond--he'd entered via the hole in his ceiling and had no plans to leave his room.

"C'mon, Jazz. Sing something!" Sari smiled sweetly. "Please?"

Jazz glanced at Prowl's darkened door and grinned. "All right, all right. I'll take the mike."

He caught it when Bumblebee tossed it his way. The darn thing was surprisingly huge with a foamy yellow substance sticking out of one end. He grabbed the remote and flipped through his music choices. "Now lemme find the song--ah, there it is. Okay, ready?"

All eyes were on him.

"C'mon, Jazz!" Sari cheered.

Ukulele music tinkled through the speakers. Jazz lifted his head and brought the microphone closer to his mouth. "This one's for Prowl."

.o

Something was amiss. Prowl knew it the moment he jumped down and felt metal bumps on the wall behind his tree. Who in the world thought it'd be funny to muck up his walls? His anger stopped once he realized the dots were arranged in regular patterns. He shut off his visor and rubbed his fingertips across the text.

__

"Learning to see like you do made me the happiest mech alive."

He trailed the stucco and found another message behind one of his wall hangings. This one sent his Spark trembling in its chamber.

__

"Moonlight looks good on you. Just thought I'd tell you that."

Prowl discovered several clever notes speckled throughout his room. Jazz was creative in his placement. On the undersides of shelves, around the doorframe, next to light switches and even on the floor. These were like hanging messages, but even more secret because Braille was just a bunch of meaningless patterns to the sighted. Jazz could hide love notes in plain view if he wanted, and reading them didn't require bright lights or magnification.

Music made its way through his open door. A stringed instrument of some kind. It didn't interest him until he heard Jazz's smooth voice slip in. He found himself sitting at rapt attention in the darkness, listening. The way Jazz sang was _beautiful_, his lyrics vividly describing an imaginary world somewhere over a rainbow.

Like a child hypnotized by the Pied Piper, Prowl followed that fantastic sound into the main room. Jazz practically descended on him the moment he emerged. Prowl felt an arm wrap around his waist and that wonderful voice crooned gently into his audio. The others saw it all, but he didn't care. Hearing Jazz sing blotted out all sense of reality. There were only dreams of their incredible bonding experience. He let his elation seep through their bond and heard Jazz smiling at him.

"Man, check Prowl out," Bumblebee whispered from the edge of _somewhere_. "He hates it."

Prowl wondered what Bumblebee would say if he knew he was actually trying not to kiss Jazz and interrupt that stunning voice.

Jazz sang about so many colors and sensations and how troubles melted like lemon drops above chimney tops. All true--Prowl always felt happy _first_ whenever he thought of Jazz, or heard his name brought up in conversation. He turned his visor on to watch his lover's face respond to the music. Jazz was smiling so softly that Prowl barely resisted tracing it with his fingertips. Primus, why did he keep this talent secret for so long?

Sari and Bumblebee were whispering, but Prowl couldn't spare half an audio to listen in. Not when that all-encompassing voice held him in its gentle embrace and sent warmth shooting across his Spark. Jazz looked _radiant_, and as long as he lived Prowl knew he'd never forget this moment.

If only time stood still longer. All too soon, the song was over and that wonderful, smooth, glowing voice hummed to silence.

Prowl felt Jazz reach over him and hand something to Bulkhead. That same arm wrapped around his shoulders as soft lips lightly kissed his audio.

"And that's what a rainbow sounds like," Jazz whispered in a tone only Prowl could hear. "Funny thing is, it only sounds good when you're listenin'."

Snorting at that, Prowl kept his expression carefully composed.

"It was nice," he said. Then he retreated to his quarters while letting all the gratitude, love and admiration he felt pour into their bond. He knew Jazz wouldn't misunderstand even though the others did. Their responses followed his back all the way into his private quarters.

"Wow. Cold shoulder, much?" Bulkhead mumbled, his mouth full of rust stick crumbs. "I was just gonna ask if he wanted the mike!"

"Prowl, sing? Ahahahaaaaa!" Bumblebee fell off the cement couch loud enough that half of Cybertron probably heard it. "Maybe when the Pit freezes over!"

Prowl gathered up the two by fours he collected on his way back from the library. Using the sharp tip of a throwing disk, he sat down and carved his own hanging messages. Reading might have posed problems for him, but he could write by touch. Each glyph he carved flowed smoothly into its neighbor like fine art. He utilized a ball of twine, faced the tree and strung the messages in tiers--one on the lowest branch, another in the middle and the third just below the bough upon which he sat. They said:

__

Loving you feels right.

Your voice is a rainbow, bright.

It's like having sight.

Then Prowl settled himself under the gentle tapping of his wooden wind chimes. The full moon rode high in the endless sky. He turned towards its intangible glow. It was strange, seeing how being in love changed his outlook on the world. Everything seemed to whisper Jazz's name. He longed to hear that smooth voice in his audio. The idea of making Jazz happy sent thrills through his Spark. He didn't need to hide anything from Jazz, because Jazz would always be the hand reaching down to pull him out whenever the world closed in like compactor walls.

A presence blocked the door of his quarters. Prowl's fuel tanks quivered. The tree moved as Jazz's weight shifted its gravitational center. Prowl tingled in anticipation of his lover's touch. Jazz was right below him now, reading the last message. The branch accepted another body, a silent hand caressed his cheek and the swelling warmth in his Spark reached for those fingertips.

Reality was complete once more.

"Hey, sexy," Jazz said in his ear. "I found a container of something tasty under the couch. Stick out your tongue."

Prowl did so without question and felt Jazz's thumb deposit a scoop of sweet axel grease. "Mm...this is Bumblebee's. I think I'll play innocent if he asks what happened to--" his fingers moved to tighten their grip before Jazz could pull away, "--excuse me, I wasn't done with your thumb."

"Wow, possessive."

"Only with you." He pulled Jazz's hand back to his mouth and lapped up the rest of the axel grease. His mind slipped towards yesterday, when his tongue was doing the exact same thing to something else, and his face grew gently warm.

"Ya missed Optimus' song." Jazz had to be remembering, too, because his fingertips were hotter than before. "He sang about a hound dog or something. Funny stuff. I think he's hooked on this Elvis person."

"I think I'll survive," Prowl replied, finally releasing Jazz's hand. "Besides...I prefer your singing. That was...that was beautiful, Jazz. I..." he cupped the side of his own face, though he wondered why he felt so shy when talking to Jazz was so _easy_, "...doubt a rainbow can compete."

Soft lips brushed his audio, "Thanks. Really--that means a lot."

"I'm glad." Prowl whispered. Then, annoyingly, reality intruded on his mind. "Don't you have to report to Ultra Magnus?"

"In the next twenty four hours, yeah. Why go back early on my time off?" Jazz's voice had a smile's sweetness behind it. "I really don't care where we spend the next cycle...anywhere's good if you're there."

Grinning, Prowl ducked his head while Jazz's words tickled him pink inside. He felt the branch shift and greeted the lips he knew were headed his way. No tongues, just the pure softness of a lover's kiss. Sugary euphoria welled in his chest as he melted into the arm that draped itself casually around his shoulders. Jazz was looking up at the moon...Prowl could tell by the slight tension in his neck. He traced the cables connecting Jazz's throat to his chassis. A faint shiver rewarded him.

"There's a meteor shower goin' on tonight." Jazz whispered, looking down at him, "Looks like it's raining light. Can your visor pick it up?"

Prowl tried, but only felt faint flickers. "Probably not as well as your eyes. So be my eyes. Is it beautiful?"

"Yeah...I like what I'm lookin' at." And it wasn't the sky.

Prowl gave Jazz's chest a playful slap. "Humans often make wishes on shooting stars. That poses a slight problem."

"Eh?"

"My wish already came true."

Jazz's lovely mouth smiled into his fingers and came down for a quick peck. "Mine, too."

Neither said anything after that. Prowl enjoyed the sky's beauty vicariously through Jazz's eyes, and the quiet stretched on without growing awkward. City sounds grew muffled behind the bubble of togetherness surrounding the tree. Prowl reveled in the mutual silence. Words tended to grow cumbersome after awhile. But a touch? A smile? A song? The warm pulse passing back and forth through their bond? All were contributions to a conversation that never ceased. Love was a language all its own.

Prowl clasped Jazz's hand when it came to rest gently on his chest. Once upon a time those same fingers were prepared to end him, but chose instead to set him free. Had that moment of first contact tied the knot binding their destinies together? Maybe their lives were the same as the tree in which they sat. No matter how complex, twisted or ugly it became, each root and limb connected to the same trunk. Trees themselves came from tiny seeds that burst into life just like the universe itself exploded into being. Everyone who ever lived could trace their path to its origin in a single cosmic seed.

Prowl nestled closer to Jazz, who leaned more heavily on the tree trunk, and marveled at his life. The love he'd been searching for was destiny standing at the beginning of everything, patiently waiting for him to look over his shoulder.


End file.
